Scary Stories & Creepypastas

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These gripping true ghost
tales, together with some
compelling legends, are
among the most vivid col¬
lected by Elliott O’Donnell
in more than half a century
spent ghost-hunting.

He writes of creeping
hands, vengeful phantoms
and tortured wraiths exactly
as they were seen—from ac¬
counts by witnesses, and
from records made at the
time or shortly afterwards.

Besides documenting the
eases of others, O'Donnell
has sat many nights' vigils,
alone, with well-known per¬
sonalities. He has investi¬
gated numerous cases of
supernatural phenomena, dis¬
turbing and horrifying, from
inexplicable haun tings in
lonely country mansions to
houses in the heart of towns
cursed by appalling events of
the past.

No one on reading these
tales by Britain’s renowned
ghost-hunter can remain a
sceptic.

Or refrain from a shiver in

THE

SCREAMING SKULLS

and Other Ghost Stories

The collected True tales and legends of
ELUOTT O'DONNELL , ghost-
hunter for more than half a century

By

ELLIOTT O’DONNELL

Arranged by H. Ludlam
Author of

“A Biography of Dracula '

LONDON

W, FOULSHAM & CO* LTD.

NEW YORK * TORONTO * CAFE TOWN ’ SYDNEY

W. FOULSHAM & CO, LTD,,
Teovit Road, Slough, Bucks, England

© Elliott O'Donnell 1964

MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

by WiUrrtCT Brothers and Hauxm Limited
Birktnhead

CONTENTS

Page

The Veiled Ghost of Highgate 9

The Screaming Skulls of Calgarth Hall 12

The Fifth Stair 19

The Fatal Phantom of Eringle Truagh 24

The Grey Horror 27

The Ghost of Fred Archer 36

The Haunting of the Gory Hotel 40

The London Villa of Ghostly Dread 42

An Unsolved Mystery 49

The Haunted Buoy 52

The Man in Boiling Lead 55

The Creeping Hand of Maida Vale 58

The Man on the Landing 65

The Legend of Cooke’s Folly 69

The Mauthe Doog 72

The Phantom Drummer of Cortachy 75

The Ghosts of the Beeches 80

The Phantom Clock of Portman Square 85

Horror in Skye 92

Ghosts and Murder 94

A Haunted Hampstead House 103

The Haunted Quarry 106

The Spectres of the Gables 109

Pearlin Jean of Allanbank 112

The Haunting of Allum Court 116

The Ghosts of The White Garter 121

The Nun of Digby Court 131

The Phantom Lady of Berry Pomeroy 134

The Haunting of St. Giles ] 39

The Phantom Drummer of Fyvie 141

The Phantom Rider 145

My Night in Old Whittlebury Forest 147

The Fourth Tree in the Avenue 151

v

CONTENTS

A Night Vigil at Christchurch 153

The Haunted Stream 157

The Castle Terrors 160

The House in Berkeley Square 165

Will-o'-the-wisp and Corpse Candles 169

INTRODUCTION

Elliott O'Donnell as a boy was afraid of being alone in the
dark— horribly and painfully afraid. The ghost stories told
him by his sister and the family's sewing-maid made his fear
all the stronger. Yet the dark fascinated the parson’s son and
he longed to explore it though he dared not.

It was not until he had ranched in the Far West of the
U.S.A., where he rode cattle, sat at the camp fires and listened
to Indians and backwoodsmen talking about eerie lights they
had seen on Wizard Island in Crater Lake, and stories of
haunted trees no horse would go near, and ghost dances; not
until he had freelanced as a writer in San Francisco and New
York, trained for the stage in England, acted on tour and in
London, and then settled in St. Ives, Cornwall, that he first
seriously thought of becoming a ghost-hunter. This was at the
turn of the century.

Since then Elliott O'Donnell, who was bom in Bristol in
1872, has been novelist and ghost story writer, lecturer and
broadcaster, radio playwright and criminologist. But it is in
the realm of the supernatural that his most exhaustive work
has been done.

He has written more books on ghostly phenomena than any¬
one. He has investigated countless cases of reputed hauntings,
alone and with many notable people including the late Duke
of Newcastle, Lord Curzon of Kedleston, Sir C. A. Smith, and
Sir Ernest Bennett. He has documented many authentic ac¬
counts of supernatural appearances and seen much phenomena
himself.

The true stories he now tells, together with some compelling
legends, are among the most enthralling gathered in more
than half a century of ghost-hunting. Only in some of the true
tales, for various reasons, have names of people involved been
changed.

H.L.

vii

To

MR. AND MRS. COOK

in appreciation of their
kindness to me

THE VEILED GHOST OF HIGHGATE

There was standing when 1 was young in the vicinity of
Highgate, north London, a quaint, rambling red-brick
house with a moss-grown courtyard in front. Inside were
large gloomy rooms and dark staircases and passages.

The owner of the house resided abroad. No one lived in it
for long and the following traditional story was associated
with it.

Towards the end of the eighteenth century there were living
in the house a Mr. Bruce, his wife and daughters. Charles, the
only son of Mr. Bruce and a wild and reckless youth, had been
living in Paris for two years when he suddenly returned
home, so ill that he had to be put to bed and Miss Black, a
nurse, engaged to attend him.

On her arrival Miss Black was shown into the invalid's
room. The furniture was of the handsome, heavy kind
characteristic of those times. The panelling on the walls was
black with age, the fireplace supported by massive buttresses.
The large curtained bed in which Charles lay stood in the
centre of the floor, and an oil lamp glimmered on a table.

Miss Black replenished the fire, which was low, and sitting
down at the table started to read the Bible. She had been
instructed to keep very quiet. Now and again blasts of wind
shook the leafless branches of the great trees in the garden,
while snow spluttered on the embers as it was wafted down
the wide chimney.

Curious to see her patient, Miss Black gently pulled aside
the curtain round his bed. Contrary to her expectation he was
not asleep but lay motionless on his back, his bright blue eyes
glaringly fixed on her face, his underlip fallen, mouth apart,
cheeks a perfect hollow, his long white teeth projecting fear¬
fully from the shrunken lips, whilst a bony hand, covered with
wiry sinews, was stretched on the bedclothes. He was not a

9

THE SCREAMING SKUIXS

pleasant sight. Miss Black quickly returned to the table, leav¬
ing the curtain still drawn aside.

About midnight the patient began to breathe heavily and
seemed to be very restless. Turning to look at him, Miss Black
was greatly surprised to see a closely veiled woman seated in
a chair near the head of the bed. Miss Black was about to move
when the woman motioned to her to keep her seat.

Miss Black could not see the woman’s face, owing to the
veil, but she got the impression that she was young and good-
looking. She was slender and rather tall, and wore a light
green dress. She had gold earrings, a large gold locket and
chain and a massive gold, bejewelled bracelet of curious work¬
manship, all of which sparkled in the lamplight. Miss Black
concluded that the woman was a relative.

Charles Bruce, who had become more than ever restless,
heaved and sighed and seemed in great distress. Miss Black
was rising to go to him when the woman again motioned to
her to remain seated. The heat from the fire made Miss Black
drowsy and she dozed for a few minutes. When she awoke, the
woman had gone.

At the same hour the next night the same thing happened.
Miss Black was reading at the table when, on looking at the
bed, she saw the veiled woman seated beside the patient. She
got up and, undeterred by the repellant action of the woman,
approached the bed, whereupon the woman rose and moved
slowly and noislessly towards the door.

The face of her patient terrified Miss Black. Deep drops of
sweat were on his brow and his Ups quivered as if in agony.
His glaring eyes followed the receding figure of the woman,
who mysteriously vanished just before she reached the door.

The strain she had undergone watching the sick man and
the strange woman was so great that Miss Black told the
Bruces she could not stay another night in the house. It was
only after the doctor implored her to remain that she very
reluctantly yielded.

The next night was Christmas Eve. It was bitterly cold but
dry. The wind moaned and sighed and rattled the ill-secured

io

THE VEILED GHOST OF HIGHGATE

shutters, generating dismal echoes in the gloomy passages of
the old building.

At the same hour as on the previous nights the veiled woman
suddenly appeared by the bed of the invalid. His gasping and
heaving made Miss Black’s heart sicken and when, in spite
of the warning hand of the strange woman, she approached
the bed, the corpse-like features of Charles became horribly
convulsed, his eyes starting from their sockets. Miss Black spoke
but there was no reply. She touched him very gently. He was
cold with terror and unconscious of any object but the mys¬
terious woman.

Thinking her patient was going to expire, Miss Black was
about to go for assistance when the woman bent over Charles,
who made a feeble effort to keep her away. Miss Black ran at
once to the woman, whose clothes were very wet although the
weather was dry, and, obeying a sudden impulse, raised her
veil. There was no face under it, only a blank.

The shock Miss Black received was so great that she fainted.
She was found in the morning lying on the floor only half
conscious.

Charles Bruce lay stiff and lifeless, one hand across his eyes
as if to shade them from some object he feared to look on; the
other hand gripped the coverlet.

That same morning, it was later discovered, the body of a
foreign woman, young and beautiful, in a green dress, with
gold earrings, a gold locket and chain and a massive bejewelled
gold bracelet of curious workmanship was washed ashore on
the Kent coast. She had been in the water three or four days.
Her identity, if known to certain people in England, was never
divulged.

The Bruces left the house soon after the death of Charles
and never returned. It was shortly after their departure that
the house was rumoured to be haunted by the ghost of a young
man, supposedly Charles Bruce, who was seen and heard
wandering disconsolately in the dead of night from room to
room, along passages and up and down staircases, ever seeking
companionship and sympathy, and finding none.

ii

THE SCREAMING SKULLS OF CALGARTH HALL

In the vicinity of Lake Windermere there stood in the early
seventeenth century a small farm occupied by Kraster Cook
and his wife Dorothy. They were a hard-working, thrifty
couple, who loved their cottage and their few acres, which
had been handed down to them through many generations.

The land all around their holding was owned by Myles
Phillipson, the head of a rich and influential family, and who,
though not titled, was that type of English country squire who
had long met the nobility on terms of equality. Myles Phillip¬
son had an attractive young wife and they planned to build
a new manor house upon their estate. Of all the many acres
that were theirs, none seemed so desirable to the Phillipsons
as the little farm of their humbler neighbours.

But Kraster Cook would not sell. Time after time Phillipson
went to him, offering inducement after inducement, but all
to no purpose. He could not shake the stubborn farmer's
decision.

One day Myles Phillipson returned from the Cooks’ cottage
with a brow as black as thunder, vowing he would have the
land if not by fair means then by foul.

There is a story in the Old Testament of King Ahab, how
he coveted the vineyard of his subject Naboth, and how his
wife, Queen Jezebel, counselled him wickedly as to how he
might secure it. Whether Myles Phillipson's wife had gotten
her inspiration from this story cannot, of course, be known,
but as wickedly as Jezebel counselled King Ahab, so did
Mistress Phillipson counsel her husband.

Next morning Phillipson rode over to the cottage. Smiling,
he offered his hand, telling Kraster Cook that he had given up
all idea of buying his land and that he had decided to build
the new house upon his own acres. He hoped that bygones

12

THE SCREAMING SKULLS OF CALGARTH HALL

would be bygones, and that all the harsh words he had
spoken would be forgotten. And further to show his changed
spirit, he asked the farmer and his wife to be his guests at the
manor house on Christmas Day, which was then a little more
than a week away.

The Cooks were relieved and glad that their powerful neigh¬
bour had changed his mind about their farm. They hesitated
about accepting the invitation, however, for they knew that
at the great house the event would be a gay one, and that to
it would come the gentry of the county and their wives, all
in silks and satins, and furs and flashing jewels. They felt
that they would be out of place and uncomfortable—yet Myles
Phillipson had asked them, and they did not feel that they
should refuse and thus seem to turn aside from the hand of
friendship he had offered.

So when Christmas Day came around, Kraster Cook and
his wife mingled with the Phillipsons’ other guests, looking
in their homespun clothes like a pair of timid country mice.
Their host and hostess tried to put them at their ease, but
when they sat down at the long table for dinner they were
bewildered and silent, and during the greater part of the
meal they sat stiff and uncomfortable, hardly venturing to
glance away from their plates.

Opposite Kraster Cook was a small bowl of pure gold and
its glitter attracted his attention; he seemed to find relief
from his embarrassment in staring steadily at it. There came
a lull in the conversation around the table which was broken
by the dear voice of Phillipson’s wife saying:

‘I see that you greatly admire that bowl, neighbour Cook.
Well, it is worth any man’s admiration.'

Naturally this attracted the attention of all at the table
both to the farmer and the bowl. Cook reddened under the
scrutiny and stammered some reply. Other guests commented
upon the treasure and the incident ended. Ended for the
time—but the fact that Cook had paid unusual attention to
the article was fixed in the mind of those present. With dinner
over, the farmer and his wife waited about for as long as they

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

thought was etiquette, then, thanking their host and hostess,
they hastened home.

The next day soldiers came to the home of the Cooks. They
carried man and wife away to the jail, and there they separated
the couple, thrust them into cells, and refused to tell either
the reason for their arrest.

A week later the Cooks were taken out of their cells and
brought up for trial. It was only when they were in the dock
that they found that they were accused of stealing a gold bowl,
the property of Mistress Phillipson, their neighbour.

Mistress Phillipson stepped daintily into the witness box
and sat and told her story. It was to the effect that the bowl
in question had been on her table during the Christmas feast.
It had been close to the prisoner, she said, and she was so
struck by the manner in which he had insistently gazed upon
it that she had spoken to him about it. She narrated the
conversation that had taken place, which was confirmed by
the testimony of several of those who had been her guests.
Two servants then came forward and swore to having seen
both the prisoners in the great banquet hall while the other
guests were dancing. Finally the bowl itself was produced and
two soldiers swore that on searching the cottage of the Cooks
they had found it hidden away in one of the bedrooms.

In the face of all this, the amazed and frightened denials
of the farmer and his wife were useless. They could do little
but shake their heads feebly and stammer incoherently when
the judge asked them if they had anything to say.

So, according to the cruel laws of the time, sentence of death
by hanging was passed upon them. It was not until the
sentence had been delivered that Dorothy Cook found her
tongue. Leaning forward with wild, dark eyes, and in a voice
that rang through the room, she pointed at Myles Phillipson
and his wife and said:

‘As there is a just God, you and your wife, Myles Phillipson,
have damned yourself forever for our land! Neither you nor
your breed will ever prosper. Whatever cause that you support
shall lose. Your friendship shall be fatal, and all those that

*4

the screaming skulls of calgarth hall

you and your breed shall love will die in pain and sorrow. You
shall have no happiness in old house or new, for my husband
and I will be with you night and day. You and all your breed
and all your household shall be tormented by us. Never, as
long as life lasts, shall you be rid of usl’

The soldiers silenced her and dragged her back to prison.
A few days later she and her husband were hanged by the
neck until dead.

While the bodies of the two were still swinging in chains
at the crossroads, the Phillipsons seized the old farmstead, had
the house pulled down and began the building of Calgarth
Hall in its place. By the time next Christmas rolled around
it was built and they were in it.

Again the gentry and their wives came in their silks and
satins, furs and jewels. Merriment ran high, the Cooks and
Mistress Dorothy's curse forgotten.

In the midst of the dinner Mistress Phillipson slipped away
from the table to go to her room to bring back a jewel she
wished to show. There was no gas in those days and the great
hall was dimly lighted by sconced candles. The wide stairs
were filled with shadows, but Mistress Phillipson, candle in
hand, paid no heed to them. She turned a curve. Ice seemed
suddenly to run through her veins. She stood frozen with
terror.

For there, perched upon the balustrade, so close to her that
she could have reached out her hand and touched them, were
two grinning skulls. One was a woman's—long, dark hair
hung from it. The other was as clearly that of a man. And in
the flickering light of the candles the two skulls grinned and
seemed about to open their ghastly mouths to speak to her.

Mistress Phillipson shrieked and fled to the dining room
where, white and trembling, she poured forth her story to her
husband and guests. The whole party, armed with rapiers
and candles, followed up the stairs.

The skulls had not vanished. They were just as she had
described them—only now instead of being perched on the
balustrade they were resting on the top step of the bend.

•5

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

The boldest of the party approached the objects and thrust
at them with his sword. They were no phantoms—they were
very real skulls indeed, and the blade clanged against their
bones.

'It’s a trick—a jest by some scurvy knave!' someone
exclaimed. Suspicion fell upon a certain page, and he was
taken and tied to a pillar in one of the cellars, and left there
in the darkness to force confession. The skulls were ignomi-
niously hurled into the courtyard. In due course the whole
household retired.

But it was not the trembling page, imprisoned below, who
was guilty—the Phillipsons soon had evidence of that.

It was about two o’clock in the morning that the household
was brought out of bed by a succession of high-pitched,
agonized screams. Instantly all was confusion at Calgarth Hall.
Doors opened, and women with frightened faces peered out
and half-dressed men came pouring into the halls. They
followed the screaming. It led them to the staircase and there,
to their unbounded astonishment and terror, perched again
the two grinning skulls.

An instant before the searchers had turned the corner and
laid eyes upon the grim objects, the screaming had abruptly
ceased. But not one among those who stood there had any
doubt that the sounds had emanated from or been caused by
the skulls.

There was little sleeping done the rest of the night. The
things remained where they were. But in the morning Myles
Phillipson himself took them out and threw them into the
pond.

Now the curse of Mistress Dorothy Cook was remembered,
indeed. Silently the guests left Calgarth Hall, and all that
day when Myles Phillipson and his wife looked at each other
it was with white faces.

That night they heard from behind tightly-barred doors
the weird screams once more echo throughout the manor.
And next morning there again were the two skulls perched
upon the staircase.

16

THE SCREAMING SKULLS OF CALGARTH HALL

Now began for the guilty pair an intolerable existence. No
servants would stay overnight and, indeed, few servants would
stay at all- Guests became fewer and fewer, and only the oldest,
most courageous friends dared to visit the Phillipsons or to
invite them to their own houses, for everyone recalled that
part of the curse promising friends sorrow and misfortune.
Yet the Phillipsons had courage, too, for they would not
abandon the house. They stayed there, defying their implac¬
able visitants.

It was the reality of the skulls that added the most complete
touch of horror to the manifestations. If they had been ghostly,
mere wraiths, it would not have been so bad. But they were
sinisterly real, and back in the mind of each of the Phillipsons
was the thought that some night they would awaken to find
the grinning teeth at their throats.

In the meantime misfortune followed close behind Myles
Phillipson. His business dwindled; every venture into which
he went met with loss. At last, shunned by practically all, the
two died, leaving little except Calgarth to their son.

When the new heir took over the house the skulls screamed
menacingly all that night. But it would seem that with the
deaths of the man and woman who had sent the Cooks to
the gallows their fury was lessened. At any rate, from the
reports that exist, it is indicated that their manifestations
took place only on Christmas Day, the anniversary of the fatal
dinner, and also upon the anniversary of the day the Cooks
were executed.

Apparently, however, there were two other restrictions
which they imposed. Any attempt to remove them from the
house was sure to be followed by a long period of unrest when
the screams rang out night after night. Nor could young
Phillipson give any dinners at the nearby Manor House.
1 here is record that he tried this once—but only once.

His guests, so the story runs, were at the table when the
screams rang out dose to the great doors; then the doors swung
open and the skulls rolled in and leaped upon the doth. The
whole company sprang to their feet and fled out into the night.

B

J 7

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Sorrow was the constant lot of the heir. When he died he
was poorer than his father had been when he passed away.
And so it went through the succeeding generations until the
Calgarth estate passed out of the hands of the family
altogether, and the last Phillipson of the line died literally
by the wayside, an outcast and a beggar.

Thus the curse was fulfilled in its entirety.

18

THE FIFTH STAIR

One morning early in the 1900s Guy Vance, a free-lance
journalist, enquired at the office of Baine, Pell Sc Co., Ken¬
sington. if they knew of any small house in the S.W. district
of London that was to be let unfurnished at a moderate rental.

‘There is one in Ricket Road,' Mr. Pell told him. ‘It is a
two-storey house, and the rent is only fifty pounds a year.’

‘That is certainly moderate,’ Vance said. ‘Why is the rent
so low? Is anything wrong with it—drainage, dampness, cracks
in the walls due to settlement?’

Mr. Pell shook his head. ‘No, sir, there’s nothing wrong
with it. The last tenants remained in it for the full term of
their seven years' lease.’

‘When can I view it?’ Vance asked.

‘Any time you like,’ Mr. Pell replied.

Accompanied by one of the estate agent's clerks, Vance
went to number thirteen Ricket Road, Kensington, the next
day and liked the house so much that he took it for three
years, with the option of remaining in it for another three
years at the same rental.

He engaged Mrs. Camp, a middle-aged woman, as his house¬
keeper, and Emma Larkin, a younger woman, as a general
servant. They slept in the house. Jane Bolt, a girl of about
twenty years of age, was a daily. The household was completed
by Pop, a bull-terrier, and Eve, a grey cat.

It was not until Vance had been in the house several weeks
that things began to happen. He was in his sitting-room
writing one evening when Pop growled and ran to the door,
his hair bristling. Puzzled at the dog’s odd behaviour Vance
opened the door, and saw a strange woman in black emerge
from a cupboard under the stairs, cross the little hall and
enter the kitchen. He could only get a side view of the woman,
and what he saw of her face startled him, it was so white.

*9

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Wondering who she was he went to the kitchen. Only Mrs.
Camp was there. She was getting his supper, as it was Emma
Larkin’s night out. Mrs. Camp stared in astonishment when
Vance asked where the strange woman had gone.

‘What strange woman?’ she queried.

'Why, the one who entered the kitchen just now/ Vance
replied.

‘You must be dreaming, Mr. Vance,’ Mrs. Camp said. *No
one has been here.'

It was Vance's turn to stare at her. 'I most distinctly saw
a woman in black with a very white face come out of the
staircase cupboard and come in here,' he said.

He told Mrs. Camp about Pop. They were both mystified.
But that was only the beginning of the disturbing happenings.

The following day Mrs. Camp, going upstairs, had reached
the fifth stair, which was directly above the cupboard, when
she was suddenly overcome with the utmost horror. She felt
there was something very dreadful underneath her. She was
a strong-minded, practical woman, very sceptical regarding the
supernatural, but it was only with the greatest effort that she
pulled herself together and went on upstairs. She did not say
anything about it to Vance, and tried to persuade herself that
her spell of horror had been due to imagination.

Pop showed a strong aversion to going up the staircase, and
it was noticed that Eve confined herself apparently to the
ground floor.

Some days passed, then one morning Emma Larkin ran
screaming into the kitchen, sank into a chair and had hysterics.
When she had recovered sufficiently she said that when she
was going up the staircase to make the beds, something heavy
whizzed through the air past her and fell with a thud in the
hall. She did not see anything but she felt most acutely that
it was very ghastly and horrible.

Mrs. Camp did her best to calm and assure her that it was
just her fancy, but Emma declared she could not stay in the
house an hour Longer, and left.

That evening about nine o'clock Vance was in the sitting-

so

THE FIFTH STAIR

room reading by the fire. Mrs. Camp was out, and he was
alone in the house. Everywhere was still except for the ticking
of the clock in the hall and the pattering of heavy raindrops
on the window-panes.

Suddenly the hush was broken by a scream, so piercing and
full of terror that Vance was appalled. It was followed by a
heavy thud. Vance nerved himself to open the door, but
nothing was to be seen, nothing to account for the sounds.
He shut the door and returned to his seat by the fire, and was
glad when Mrs. Camp returned.

He decided that the house was badly haunted, especially
the staircase. He had already made a note of the ghostly
happenings and now added to this list the cry that he had
just heard.

The next day a new general servant, Mary Pring, took the
place of Emma Larkin, and for a time all was quiet. Then,
one day about a week after Emma had left, Jane Bolt came
to Mrs. Camp and said: ‘One of the rods on the staircase is
out, and every time I try to put it back my fingers go numb—
I can't manage it.’

Mrs. Camp went to the staircase. As her instinct had led her
to expect, the stubborn rod was on the fifth stair, the very stair
on which she had experienced the sudden wave of horror. She
tried to put it back but her fingers, too, became numb. Just
then Vance, who heard her talking to Jane Bolt, opened the
drawing-room door and asked if there was anything the matter.
The moment he spoke Mrs. Camp's fingers ceased being numb,
and she replaced the rod in its socket without any difficulty.

Again there was a lull of several days, and Vance and Mrs.
Camp were hoping that there would be no more disturbing
happenings when Mary Pring, looking very pale and scared,
came to Mrs. Camp one morning and asked the name of the
strange lady in black.

'What strange lady?’ Mrs. Camp enquired, not knowing
what else to say.

’Why, when I was about to go up the staircase just now,’
Mary said, ‘I got a bad start. I suddenly saw a rather tall

21

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

woman with a very white face and forbidding expression
coming down it. She was in a black dress. She passed by me,
and when I looked to see where she went, she had vanished.
I don’t want to see her again.’

Mrs. Camp guessed that the woman who had startled Mary
was the mysterious person in black that Vance declared he
had seen cross the hall one evening and enter the kitchen. The
housekeeper was not at all curious to see that woman.

But she did. One evening about a fortnight after Mary
Pring's experience, Vance was talking to Mrs. Camp and Mary
in the sitting-room, the door of which was wide open, when
he heard someone coming down the staircase. As there was
no one in the house except the three of them—the daily had
left—they stared at one another, wondering who it could be.
They then looked and saw crossing the hall the woman in
black.

She was clutching by its long grey hair with one hand a
human head that appeared to have been just decapitated.
Dangling from its ears were gleaming gold drop-earrings. A
weird light surrounded the woman and the head. The woman
went to the cupboard under the stairs, turned slowly round,
revealing a face that was the incarnation of everything bad,
stepped into the cupboard and abruptly vanished.

The shock of what they had witnessed had been so great that
it took Vance and the two women some moments before they
could even partially recover. Mrs. Camp was the first to com¬
pose herself. Both she and Mary declared their inability to
remain in the house any longer, and left the next day. Vance,
not caring to stay in the house alone lest he should see the
woman with the head again, or something even worse, put
up at an hotel until he could find another house.

Before he left the neighbourhood he made many enquiries,
and eventually learned that about sixty years before he went
to number thirteen Ricket Road a dreadful murder had been
committed there. A woman named Rate Murphy had mur¬
dered her mistress. Miss Delia Brown, an elderly spinster, in
a manner too awful to describe, and after dismembering her

22

THE FIFTH STAIR

body on the flat roof of the house had distributed her remains
jn various parts of the district. Miss Brown’s head was the
only part of her body that was never found.

The owner of thirteen Ricket Road, after listening to
Vance's account of the ghostly occurrences that he had ex¬
perienced there, had the floor of the staircase cupboard exca¬
vated. Under it was a skull with long, matted grey hair. The
doctor who examined it was of the opinion that it had been
there for many years; so that although there was no actual
clue regarding its identity, it seemed not unlikely that it was
the missing head of poor murdered Miss Delia Brown.

23

THE FATAL PHANTOM OF ERINGLE TRUAGH

One of the most interesting cases of hauntings in the annals
of ghost-lore is that of the old churchyard of Eringle Truagh,
in County Monaghan, Ireland. According to a traditional story
many centuries old the churchyard was haunted during the
whole time people were buried there by a spirit fatally attrac¬
tive to young men and girls. It only appeared in the church¬
yard after the funeral of a native of Eringle Truagh.

To girls it assumed the form of a very handsome young
man, and to young men that of a very beautiful golden-haired
maiden comparable with the Elle Maids of Scandinavia and
the Lorelei of the Rhine. The manner in which the phantom
contacted its victims was this:

A young man who had been present at the burial of some¬
one very dear to him, in spite of the priest's warning lingered
in the churchyard alone after everyone else had left. He was
bewailing the death of the dear one when he suddenly saw
approaching him a provocatively lovely girl. Her face full of
sympathy, she bade him mourn no more for the loved one he
had lost and assured him that she was far happier now than
she would have been had she lived. Comforted by the girl's
words the youth entered into conversation with her. They
sat dose beside one another on the low wall of the church¬
yard and the young man became more and more enthralled
by her wondrous beauty. Never in his life had he beheld either
in actuality, or in dreams, anyone so beautiful. So enchanted
was he that he never thought of questioning her identity or
whence she came.

He made desperate love to her. She reciprocated his senti¬
ment, and bade him promise to meet her in the churchyard
four weeks from that day and seal his promise with a kiss.

This he did. Directly their lips met in a kiss she vanished;
and then! and not till then, did he recollect the traditional

24

the fatal phantom of eringle truagh

story of the haunting of the churchyard and realize that she
whom he had embraced so fervently was the much dreaded
phantom.

Overcome with horror he rushed home and implored his
relatives and the parish priest to save him. But prayers proved
to be of no avail. The shock he had sustained resulted in a fatal
illness, and in exactly four weeks he was, on the very date he
had pledged to meet the phantom, brought to the churchyard
in his coffin.

The phantom did not invariably appear in the churchyard,
there are instances of it being present at dances and weddings,
where it never failed to secure a victim. The fatal kiss and
promise were always given, and the final meeting with the
phantom was always in the churchyard on the pledged day.

William Carleton, the Irish novelist (1798 to 1869), was so
intrigued by the traditional haunting of the old churchyard
that he visited the place. Writing about it afterwards he said:
'I have been shown the grave of a young person about eighteen
years of age, who was said about four months before to have
fallen a victim to the phantom, and it is not more than ten
weeks since a man in the same parish declared that he gave a
promise and fatal kiss to the ghost and consequently looked
upon himself as lost. He took a fever and was buried on the
day appointed for the meeting, which was exactly a month
from the time of his contact with the spirit.

'Incredulous as it may seem the friends of these two persons
declared, at least those of the young man did, to myself that
particulars of the meetings with the phantom were detailed
repeatedly by the two persons without the slightest variation.
There are several other cases of the same kind mentioned, but
the two alluded to are the only ones that came within my
personal knowledge.'

I was so interested in the haunting that in 1926 I wrote to
the postmaster of Monaghan about it and asked if he could
tell me where I could get photographs of the old churchyard.
In his reply he mentioned Carleton’s ballad and said the
church of Eringle Truagh had been dismantled many years

25

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

previously and only two ivy-covered gables remained of it.
But, he said, belief in the story of the Phantom of Death
still lingered.

I later obtained several photographs of the old churchyard
in which are to be seen the graves of the alleged victims of
the much dreaded phantom.

THE GREY HORROR

In the summer of 1894, when on my way out West in the
U.S.A., I stayed for a week at an hotel in Denver. There I
met William Smith, an elderly minister who was well versed
in the traditional ghost stories and legends of some of the
American States. One evening when we were alone he told
me about the dreadful grey ghost that had formerly haunted
Grenburg Valley, on the eastern shore of the River Hudson.
This is his story.

One afternoon in the seventies of the last century two
young men, Herbert Hall and Walter Wren, arrived at a little
village near the eastern shore of the Hudson, the inhabitants
of which were mostly of Dutch extraction. After they had had
a meal at the village inn they asked the landlord to tell them
the way to Grenburg, a small port on the Hudson where they
intended to stay the night.

'There are two ways,’ the landlord said, ‘the one a good deal
longer than the other but preferable when it is getting dusk.’

‘What difference does that make?' Wren asked. ‘Is the road
very rough?'

‘It is very rutty and rocky in places,’ the landlord said, ‘but
that is not what I had in mind.’

‘What did you have in mind?' Hall queried, eyeing him
keenly.

The landlord hesitated. ‘There is a valley a mile from
Grenburg which has a bad reputation.’

‘Robbers?’

The landlord shook his head.

'What then?' Wren asked impatiently.

'Well,' the landlord said, ‘the folk around here say it is
haunted.’

The young men burst out laughing.

‘You don’t mean to say you believe in ghosts!' Hall said.

27

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

‘I have long wanted to see a ghost. What is the story associated
with the valley? I'll be bound there is one—a murder?'

The landlord shrugged. 'There are all sorts of stories but
you would only ridicule them.’ He proceeded to give them
directions as to both ways of getting to Grenburg.

Thanking him and declaring their intention of bearding
the lion, or rather ghost, in its den, they selected the road
through the valley, and with their knapsacks once again
strapped to their backs they set off at a brisk pace.

At last the travellers reached the summit of a hill and, deep
down beneath them, they saw, spread out for some consider¬
able distance, a thickly wooded valley, all dark and mysterious
in the uncertain twilight As they descended into it they
became aware of the funereal-like silence that greeted them
on all sides.

The dale was in fact so deeply situated that even the wind,
which for the last half hour or so had been blowing with great
force along the surface of the hill, was scarcely to be felt there.
Occasionally a fitful blast could be heard among the lofty
trees, when the pale Fall leaves gave out a curious husky
crackling. Otherwise all was absolutely, wonderfully still.

The two men were so impressed that neither spoke until they
had arrived at the bottom of the decline, and were standing
in almost Stygian darkness amidst the shadows of the foliage
on either side of them. Hall was the first to break the silence.

‘This must be the haunted glen,’ he said. ‘Pretty cheerful,
isn’t it?'

'It is that,’ Wren replied, looking around him trying to
pierce the gloom, ‘but come on. I vote we get out of it as soon
as possible.’

Further on they came to a wide open spot where there were
crossroads. Here the shadows lay very thick—so thick, indeed,
that they had to curb their pace and proceed very slowly lest
they should take the wrong route.

It was while they were thus engaged, straining their eyes
and peeping around them apprehensively, that they became
impressed with the certainty of some object moving slowly

28

THE GREY HORROR

ahead of them through the gloom. At such an hour, for it was
now getting late, and in such a dreary place, this was calculated
to challenge attention, and Wren and Hall found themselves
gazing at the object with an intensity that had in it something
not very far removed from fear. By and by they were able
to see it a little more clearly, and they perceived it was a very
tall figure, apparently a man walking at an even pace, but with
immensely long strides.

He was going in the same direction as they were and was
only a few feet in front of them, but to their astonishment they
found that although they accelerated their pace with the idea
of overtaking him, they did not approach the least degree
nearer; without seeming to increase his speed, he yet main¬
tained invariably the same distance away from them.

They had now struck off along a road they believed to be
the right one and were walking tolerably fast. The figure
preceding them, however, was seemingly in no way aware of
their proximity, for without once turning its head towards
them, with the same measured stride, it steadily advanced.
At length Hall, more perhaps to relieve his feelings than
anything else, called out:

‘Hullo there! Who are you?’

There was no response. The figure did not show by any
gesture the slightest consciousness that it had heard, but con¬
tinued pacing on at the same rate and at the same distance.
The two friends now suddenly realized that their sense of
hearing, which the strangely emphasized silence of the place
had rendered abnormally acute, had not caught any sound of
footsteps coming from the figure. They could readily decipher
the echoes of their own, but the figure seemingly trod with
absolute noiselessness.

This came as an unpleasant surprise, and soon they became
poignantly aware of the advent of novel and distinctly un¬
comfortable feelings. Pride prevented them admitting this
and they were striving to rally their faculties and, at all events,
to simulate unconcern, when the unexpected happened. The
figure abruptly swerved off the road and, making for a large

39

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

wooden gate leading on to a gravel drive, came directly into
the moonlight.

Both Wren and Hall at once emitted an involuntary cry.
Instead of being clothed, the figure was nude I It gleamed a
horrible, sinister grey. It had very long arms and legs and a
peculiarly small and rotund head, and when it suddenly
turned and looked at the two travellers it revealed a strange
and startling countenance.

The features were more or less human, but the expression
in the big, deep sunken, light-green eyes was not. So frightful
was it, so indescribably exultant and devilish, that Wren and
Hall shrank back appalled, too petrified with fear to utter a
sound.

Fortunately, however, the figure showed no inclination to
dally. Moving onward, still with the same peculiar lengthy
and measured stride, it advanced up the drive, eventually
disappearing from view round a rather abrupt curve. A few
seconds later there was a faint sound in the direction it had
taken, resembling a human cry, and a moment or so later,
still from the same direction, there was a repetition of
the noise, but much more prolonged and bearing with it a
tone of suffering quite beyond the ability of words to des¬
cribe.

There was another pause, and then, apparently nearer, a
yell of the most piercing intensity, the animal element in it
seeming to strive for mastery with the human; and its final
echoes had scarcely died away before the whole valley became
alive with appalling sounds, with moanings, plaintive and
yet horribly menacing, and with whoopings, interspersed
with harsh, discordant cries and queer, hollow-sounding, long-
reverberating laughter.

This went on for about a minute. It then quite suddenly
ceased and was followed by a silence unbroken save for the
gentle rustling of the fast-dying foliage and the melancholy
sighing and soughing of the night breeze.

Wren and Hall waited for a few minutes, until they could
sufficiently pull themselves together, and then continued their

3°

THE GREY HORROR

tramp, eventually reaching their destination without further
mishap.

(William Smith stopped here and said that was enough for
one night. The following night he went on with his story).

An Irishman named Patrick O’Rourke, hearing about the
ghostly experience of Hall and Wren, went to the village inn
where the two men had stopped on their way to Grenburg
and prevailed upon the landlord to tell him anything he knew
about the grey ghost and haunted valley. And this was
what the landlord said:

'Four years ago last April I was going through the valley
in the early hours of the morning. The dawn had only just
broken and the track in places was still dark. Well, when I
was pretty nearly opposite the large wooden gate leading into
the White Grange, as we call it, my horse (I was riding a
brown cob that I had not had in my possession very long)
suddenly shied, and I saw sitting by the wayside, up against
the trunk of an elm, a tall figure. In the uncertain light I
thought it was a man, some tramp who was either having a
nap or was ill. I called out to him and, as he did not reply,
I called again and was considering dismounting to see what
was the matter with him, when he suddenly and with amazing
agility sprang to his feet. I then got a fearful shock.

'It was no man at all, but a grim and ghastly caricature
of one!

'It was gigantic, ten or twelve feet in height it seemed. It
was nude, its skin being seemingly a glistening, uniform grey,
and its face like that of a death’s head; a death's head, how¬
ever, with something frightfully lurid and evil in its big, round
eye-sockets. I had not time to observe more because my horse
bolted, but when I eventually reined it in and looked around
I saw the thing, whatever it was, cross the road with enormous
bounds and disappear through the gateway leading to the
White Grange.'

Here the old man paused for a moment, then, clearing his
throat, he went on again:

3*

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

'There were two travellers that the great grey ghost actually
touched—or at least, one of them. They were walking through
the woods when they heard footsteps behind them. They
turned and saw following them a great grey shape, whose un¬
earthly long arms trailed along the ground. It was of unearthly
height, too. Its head seemed to tower up into the trees, and
that head was a grinning skull.

‘The men began to run, but the thing covered at one stride
ten times the ground they could. Closer and closer it came—
the gigantic grey shape that pursued the fleeing travellers.
And suddenly a soft, incredibly repugnant something like a
cloudy hand half turned to flesh covered like a mask the face
of one of them.

'He shrieked once and fell. The other, crying with horror,
ran on. The thing did not pursue him. Next morning a search¬
ing party from the village sought the other traveller. They
found him wandering in the woods half insane. He never
quite recovered his mind.’

Here the old man paused again.

‘And there is no accounting for the haunting?’ O'Rourke
asked.

'There are theories,' the old man said.

O’Rourke then enquired of him the name of the present
owner of the White Grange, and having obtained it he went
on his way. A week later and he was back again in the same
neighbourhood. In the interval he had written to the owner
of the property and, somewhat to the owner’s astonishment,
had obtained leave to stay a night there.

The night chosen for the expedition proved to be excep¬
tionally wild and stormy. O’Rourke had invited three friends
of his living in the county to go with him to the Grange. He
had chosen them because they were very stolid, matter-of-fact
athletes, not in the least degree likely to give way to nerves.

Having first assured themselves no one was hiding anywhere
in the house, they looked for a spot to commence their vigil
and finally selected the room O’Rourke believed, from the
description given to him, was the haunted chamber. It was

32

THE GREY HORROR

situated at one end of the corridor and possessed two doors,
the one leading into the corridor and the other into what in
ear lier days was styled a powder closet. It was an oddly con¬
structed apartment, for across the middle of it were two pillars,
and on the wall between them hung a grotesque looking piece
of tapestry.

The four friends sat on the floor in a row right across the
room, O'Rourke facing the corridor, Moor and Ross facing
the tapestry, and Ventry facing the entrance to the powder
closet. At first, every now and then, they fancied they heard
soft footsteps tip-toeing up and down the corridor—once they
seemed actually to be in the room—but after a time these
sounds all died away and there was nothing but silence, un¬
broken save for the occasional rattling of doors and windows
and the beating of rain against the panes of glass.

One by one the quartet fell asleep to be awakened by hear¬
ing the church clock sonorously boom out three. Moor at once
rose to his feet.

‘Look here,’ he said, *it’s morning. Nothing will happen
now and I have to be at—' Then he suddenly changed his
tone and with a wild cry of ‘Oh, my God, there it is I* he
staggered back against the wall.

The other three looked and in the dim light of dawn that
struggled to get in through the crevices of the shutters, they
saw, standing erect between the pillars, a luminous some¬
thing. Nothing more at first. By and by, however, while all
were gazing at it in open-mouthed wonder and excitement,
it suddenly became hideously and alarmingly vivid, and they
saw an immense form, streaked, so it seemed to them, a lurid
black and grey.

Moor and Ross glanced at its face, and they said afterwards
it was like the face of a corpse, only a corpse that was nearly
in the skeleton stage, the skin being drawn tightly over the
bones, and the mouth devoid of flesh and grinning. The
impression it gave them was that it was intensely hostile.
O’Rourke and Ventry contented themselves with peering at
the body only, they did not dare raise their eyes to the head.

c

33

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

They stared at it for some moments, until in fact it began
to approach them, when Moor gave way to panic and shrieked
out: ‘Strike a light, one of you! ’

O'Rourke then lit a candle, and the thing at once vanished.
The four men did not stay to talk the matter over. They made
for the corridor immediately and hurriedly left the house.

A week or so later came a kind of sequel. O’Rourke was
again in the neighbourhood. Indeed, the spot so fascinated
him that he paid a flying visit to it. When he was in the valley
looking around him, a stranger suddenly came in sight and
accosted him. He said that on the very night O'Rourke and
his friends were in the big house looking for the ghost he had
seen it.

*It crossed from there,' he said, pointing to a tall isolated
tree on one side of the road, dose to a pit with a wide, dark,
gaping mouth. ‘Watch that pit dosely tomorrow night be*
tween twelve and three o'clock. It is the pit that causes the
White Grange and the valley to be haunted. It goes right
down into the bowels of the earth. There are holes like it in
Peru and Brazil. They attract and harbour a foul and danger¬
ous species of elemental spirits.'

Precisely at the time he mentioned O'Rourke went to the
haunted valley. The night was fine, but dark scurrying douds
suggested the possibility of rain. The pit made his flesh creep.
There was something so eerie and menacing about it.

He approached it cautiously and was gazing at it appre¬
hensively when he got a terrific start. Rising out of its reputed
fathomless depths was a luminous ghastly grey head. The only
live thing about it was a lurid, baleful light in the depths of
its fleshless eye-sockets. It was the same horrible phantom
that O'Rourke and his friends had seen in the White
Grange.

O'Rourke stared at it aghast, and when grisly shoulders
gradually appeared he did not wait to see any more, but took
to his heels.

He was quite satisfied that what the stranger had told him
about the pit was true. He never went to the valley again.

34

THE GREY HORROR

Some years later the supposed fathomless pit was filled in,
and when that was done Grenburg Valley ceased to be
haunted.

Thus ended the strange story that William Smith so kindly
told me in Denver City more than seventy years ago.

35

THE GHOST OF FRED ARCHER

In the early summer of 1927 a considerable sensation was
caused in Newmarket by a report of the appearance of a ghost
in the Hamilton Stud Lane. Two local people, a mother and
daughter, declared that they saw a phantom horseman emerge
from a copse, gallop noiselessly towards them and when near,
mysteriously vanish.

The older woman had a vivid recollection of Fred Archer
at the time he was a familiar personality in Newmarket, and
she was certain the apparition she had seen was he. The horse
of the phantom rider was grey, and that had been the colour
of Archer’s favourite steed. There had long been a rumour in
Newmarket that the Stud Lane was from time to time haunted
by Archer’s ghost.

Fred Archer, the second son of William Archer, a well-
known jockey, was born at Cheltenham in 1857. Between
1870 and 1884 he won more than 2,000 races and achieved
world-wide fame. His was a household name. Archer suffered
a terrible blow by the death of his wife, to whom he was
devoted, in 1884, within a year of their marriage. For a time
he abandoned riding. The attraction that it had for him
proving too great he again appeared on the racecourse and
was as successful as ever.

In 1886, worried about his increase in weight, he tried to
reduce by taking less food. He would sometimes hardly eat
anything for three or four days, his only diet being a few water
biscuits and a small glass of champagne. Never very robust,
this treatment told on him, and when he had an attack of
typhoid fever he had little strength to cope with it. During
the absence of his nurse from the sick room one day he shot
himself. He was only twenty-nine years old.

Archer was buried in the cemetery at Newmarket in the
same grave as his beloved wife.

36

THE GHOST OF FRED ARCHER

On June 3rd, 1927, at the request of the northern news¬
paper for which I was working at the lime, I went to New¬
market with the express purpose of spending a night in the
Hamilton Stud Lane on the chance of seeing the alleged
ghost. I visited Archer’s grave and made numerous enquiries
relative to the haunting. On the heath I entered into conver¬
sation with an old man seated on the ground beside a wheel¬
barrow.

‘Have I ever seen or heard anything about Archer’s ghost?'
he said in answer to my interrogation. "Well, yes, I have often
seen what I thought might be his ghost when I was a youngster.
On one such occasion I had been to Six Miles Bottom, and was
returning home along the road leading past the Green Man
and what is known about here as The Two Captains. It was
between one and two o’clock in the morning, the moon was
high overhead, no one was about, and all was so still that you
could catch the slightest sound.

‘Well, I had just passed the junction of the London and
Cambridge roads, and had almost got to the deft in the Devil’s
Ditch, through which the main road runs, when all of a sudden
1 saw on the white roadway alongside me what resembled the
black shadow of a horse and rider. Wondering where the
material counterpart of the shadow could be, I at once looked
around but there was nothing to be seen, only bare space on
either side of me, nothing, I thought, that could in any way
account for the shadow. Yet it was still there, and it continued
to move along by my side for some little way, when it suddenly
vanished.

’The rider, judging by the shadow, seemed to be of a fair
height and to be wearing a kind of hat, which might have been
what we used to call a deer-stalker or it might have been a
jockey’s cap; at any rate it seemed to have a sort of peak. My
impression was that it was Fred Archer’s ghost, which I had
been told was sometimes to be seen on the heath, but when I
spoke about it to an old friend of my father, a man who had
lived in these parts close on eighty years, he said that it was

37

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

tar more likely it was the ghost of one of the highwaymen that
used to rob and murder people on the heath.

’I still believed, however, that what I had seen was the ghost
of poor Archer. But there, it might have been just my fancy.’

I made my way back to town, and later returned with the
intention of spending some time in Hamilton Stud Lane.
Passing once again by the cemetery I turned down a seemingly
interminable straight road, flanked on either side by neatly
trimmed hedgerows, having in their background fields and,
here and there, solitary trees. On at last reaching the end of
this stretch I came to a slight dip with a building on either
side of it, and just beyond, three buildings and gates, also on
either side of the road a collection of trees forming a kind of
miniature spinney.

Feeling somewhat tired after what was to me an unusual
amount of walking I looked around for somewhere to rest,
and at last spotted a suitable spot up against the hedgerows
and under the shadow of the trees. Making for myself as
comfortable a seat as the nature of the ground allowed I sat
down and began reading a little book on Cambridgeshire that
I had bought in the Charing Cross Road the previous day.

The waning daylight, however, soon put a stop to ray read¬
ing. I dozed, and awaking with a start got up and was stretching
myself when I suddenly became conscious of a sensation of
eeriness. A moment or two later I sensed something large
flash past me. The spot became so uncanny that I left it.

I was trudging along the road with no particular goal in
view when I encountered a cyclist, and asked him if he could
tell me whereabouts in the lane it was that Archer's ghost
was alleged to have been seen.

‘Why, yes,’ he said, with a smile, ‘in this lane.’ And he
thereupon described to me the spot where I had had the eerie
sensation.

Without realizing it, I had been in the haunted Hamilton
Stud Lane. I returned to the spot, and after being there for
some time I again experienced the odd sensation and heard
sounds like those made by a horse rapidly approach me. I saw

38

THE GHOST OF FRED ARCHER

nothing. When the sounds were close to me they stopped
abruptly, receded and gradually died away in the distance.

Nothing further happened. Whether what I experienced
was due to poor Fred Archer's ghost I cannot definitely say.
As to why his spirit should have haunted the lane and neigh¬
bourhood, that must be left entirely to speculation. None of
us is sufficiently acquainted with the laws and ways of the
unknown to decree. We can only surmise.

39

THE HAUNTING OF THE GORY HOTEL

I was having a discussion one day in my London club with
Sir Roland Melville, Bart., about ghostly phenomena, and he
told me the following experience which he had had some years
previously.

He was travelling one day from Paddington to Penzance in
an express. On the way the train was held up when the line
was blocked through the collapse of a bridge, and he was
obliged to seek a room for the night in Plymouth. After much
hunting he at last found one in an hotel not far from the Hoe.

The room was a back one on the first floor. It smelt fusty.
The bed was in the middle of the floor and on one side of it
was a large cupboard. There was a gas fire in the room and
Sir Roland sat by it to warm himself, for it was a very cold
night. Tired with his journey and made drowsy by the heat
of the fire he went to bed and dozed fitfully, being awakened
by a laugh, loud and mocking. He sat up indignantly and saw
an eerie spherical light on the door of the cupboard.

As he stared wonderingly at the door it began to open very
slowly. Little by little the aperture increased and an object
appeared. It was a luminous head, the head of a negro. The
mouth was bared in a ferocious grin, and the dark glittering
eyes suffused with diabolical hatred.

The aperture kept widening until a whole body appeared.
In one hand it held a carving knife. Stealing stealthily out of
the cupboard the negro, crouching down, crept towards the
bed. Petrified, Sir Roland watched him as he drew nearer
and nearer. After what seemed to him years, the negro reached
the bed and, bending over it, raised the knife. As it was about
to descend the spell which had chained Sir Roland ended and,
tumbling out of bed. he made for the door. He stayed on the
landing till he could not stand the cold any longer.

Ashamed of his fear he then went back into the room. It
was in darkness. There was no sign of the phantom negro.
He slept till morning.

40

THE HAUNTING OF THE GORY HOTEL

The line not being quite cleared Sir Roland had to spend
another night in the hotel. As on the previous night he sat
for a time by the fire in his room, and then got into bed. He
fell asleep, and woke with a start to feel a cold, clammy, bare
body lying by his side.

He sat up and made to spring out of bed but found he could
not. He was again limb and tongue tied, and again an eerie
light appeared on the cupboard. As before the phantom negro
emerged from the cupboard and crept to the bed. His eyes,
glowing with malicious joy, were fixed not on Sir Roland but
on the man by his side, as he raised his gleaming knife. The
chain which had held Sir Roland spellbound broke as before,
and springing out of bed he got to the landing. This time he
did not return to his bedroom but sat in the coffee room till
morning.

He angrily related his experiences to the landlord of the
hotel, who was full of apologies for putting him in the room,
which he admitted was haunted. According to the tale he told
Sir Roland, about a hundred years previously the hotel had
been a private house owned by Mr. Jasper Stevens, a widower,
who had made a fortune in the West Indies. His only com¬
panion in the house was his negro servant Tom, whom he
had brought from Jamaica. Tempted by the money Mr.
Stevens foolishly kept in the house, Tom murdered him, and
disappeared. The police failed to trace him.

Sir Roland suggested that the cupboard out of which the
negro ghost emerged should be examined. This was done. At
the back of it was a spring which, being opened, revealed a
secret chamber. Crouching on the floor of the chamber, a
bloodstained knife by his side, and a heap of gold coins in
front of him, was the skeleton. Apparently the negro, discover¬
ing the spring, had got into the cupboard but been unable
to get out of it, so starving to death.

Hence the haunting by his ghost. Efforts to exorcise it
proved futile, and the haunting continued until the hotel was
demolished—a year after Sir Roland Melville stayed in it.

41

THE LONDON VILLA OF GHOSTLY DREAD

In a by-road not Ear from the old Crystal Palace there was
standing prior to 1914 a small villa known locally as the
Mystery House. It was often to be let, as no one ever stayed
there for long.

After it had stood empty for a considerable time, a family
named Trent took it. Mrs. Trent thought there was something
strange about the house almost the moment that she crossed
the threshold. However, nothing unpleasant happened till
they had been in it a fortnight.

On entering her bedroom in haste one morning Mrs. Trent
drew up sharply on seeing the bedstead shake and one of the
pillows move. Wondering if some pet animal was in the bed
she went to it and very cautiously raised the pillow. There
was nothing under it. She removed the bedclothes, but there
was nothing under them. She peered under the bed; there
was nothing there.

Mystified but thinking it was probably just her imagina¬
tion, or maybe some kind of an illusion or hallucination, she
thought no more of it.

The following night Mr. Trent was awakened by a spine-
chilling scream coming from his wife's room, which was next
to his. In a terrible fright he jumped out of bed and dashed to
her.

In the moonlight, which flooded the room, he saw his wife
trying to push away a pillow which was over her face. Some¬
thing seemed to be pressing it down. He seized the pillow and
found himself struggling with an invisible thing that smelt
horribly. The struggle seemed to him to last interminably
but more likely it was only for a few seconds. To his relief,
whatever it was desisted, and the pillow fell on to the floor.

His wife had been too exhausted to help him, and it was
not until she had fully recovered that she was able to talk.

42

THE LONDON VILLA OF GHOSTLY DREAD

She said that all she knew was when she awoke from a nasty
dream, the pillow had been removed from under her head
and was over her face, and she felt that someone was trying to
smother her.

Mr. Trent persuaded her to change rooms with him. She
did, and nothing further took place for a week. Mr. Trent
was then alone in the house, his wife, children and the maid
having gone for the afternoon to Hampstead.

Fancying he heard a noise in the basement he went down
to inspect the place but found nothing to account for it.
Having satisfied himself that the doors and windows were all
securely fastened he was mounting the kitchen staircase when
he heard footsteps following him. He looked round but there
was no one there.

Thinking it must have been his imagination he went on
again, but he had not mounted more than a couple more steps
when he again heard the footfalls behind him. He abruptly
swung round, and for a moment the sight of his own shadow,
which stood out very black on the cream coloured wall beneath
him, made his heart beat with unusual fierceness, but there
was still no one to be seen. He stamped his feet and mounted a
couple more steps, but everything was quite still, and he had
gained the hall and was halfway up the flight of stairs leading
to the first landing when the same mysterious footfalls were
again audible.

In spite of his scepticism for ghosts and the like he now felt
a ghastly fear stealing fast upon him, and with these uncom¬
fortable sensations he continued his ascent. There was no
repetition of the steps now until he had arrived on the top
landing, when they came running up behind him, very fast,
as if someone was making frantic efforts to overtake him.

This time it was with an effort he turned round, but as on
the former occasions, there was no one to be seen. The un¬
accountable nature of the occurrence filled him with vague
and almost horrible sensations, and yielding to the excitement
he felt gaining control over him he leaned over the banisters
and shouted sternly, 'Who is there?'

43

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

The sound o£ his own voice, thus exerted in the utter soli¬
tude of the house, and followed by the most death-like silence,
had in it something so unpleasantly thrilling that he now
experienced a degree of nervousness which he had never felt
before.

A week later and the place was once more to let. Then an
ex-actress of the name of Cattling took it. She arrived with a
whole retinue of dogs—poms and dachshunds. The first week
of her tenancy passed uneventfully enough. The dogs were
very restless at night, growling and whining and keeping very
close to one another, but she attributed that to their being in
new surroundings and never for one moment gave it serious
heed.

Then one evening one of the poms suddenly cried out as
if it had been hurt. She ran upstairs to her bedroom where
she had left it, and found it lying on the floor. At first she
thought it was asleep, but on examining it more closely she
discovered it was dead.

She was puzzling this over when something attracted her
attention to the bed, and to her surprise she saw one of the
pillows was standing on end. She approached it, and then came
to a sudden halt. The pillow had assumed the most extra¬
ordinary and wholly unaccountable shape. It was like a face,
the face of some very bizarre animal with a monstrously long
nose and two deep-set eyes that gleamed horribly, and with
apparent devilish merriment.

It so fascinated her that for some minutes she simply stood
staring at it, and then, yielding to a sudden paroxysm of fury,
she rushed at it, and catching hold of it, straightened it out and
flung it on the ground.

'You killed the dog,* she shrieked, ‘and want to harm me.
You won'tl You won’tl*

There now followed a fairly long spell of comparative quiet.
Then one night the unexpected happened. Mrs. Cattling, as
per habit, went for a walk accompanied by her pets, and did
not return home till late. The house was in pitch darkness
and she was in the hall, groping about for matches for the gas,

44

THE LONDON VILLA OF GHOSTLY DREAD

when a box was quietly slipped into her outstretched hand. As
might be expected she was terribly taken back, and for some
seconds she stood stock still, not knowing what to think or do.

If it was a burglar, she tried to argue, why had he not struck
her? And yet, if it was not a burglar, who could it possibly be?
The suspense at length became so unbearable that, resolving
to learn the worst and see whatever it was face to face, she
struck a light, and then very cautiously peered around.

There was no one, nothing to be seen. Mystified, she now
went upstairs to bed, and having locked and barricaded the
door after her, she speedily undressed and crept in between
the sheets.

She slept till morning, and was in the act of dressing and
laughing at her fears during the night, when dose to her elbow
she heard a long protracted sigh. She immediately turned
round, but there was no one there, nothing to account for it.

A week or so after this she had some friends round to spend
the evening with her. They played cards and were in the
middle of an exciting hand of bridge when one of them, who
was merely a spectator, uttered a loud exclamation and pointed
to the wall.

'Look at that picture,’ she said. ‘What is making it behave
like that?'

They all glanced in the direction she indicated and were
greatly astonished at seeing an old coloured engraving in a
frame swaying violently to and fro, without any apparent
cause.

They all sat quite still and strained their ears, but there
was absolute silence, not the remotest sound of any kind, either
from within or without. One of them then went to the window
which, though open at the top, was closed at the bottom, and
peered out.

'The night seems very calm and still,' she said. 'It would
take a good deal of wind to make that picture move.*

Then, suddenly it was still, and absolutely motionless, like
all the other pictures in the room, and everyone present felt
a curious sensation of relief. Nothing of further moment

45

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

occurred during the rest of Mrs. Cattlings short tenancy, and
after she had left the premises they stood empty for another
long period.

It was during this interlude that an adventure in connection
with the house is said to have befallen two people living in the
neighbourhood. They were a young man and girl, sweethearts,
who, strolling out together one evening, chanced to pass the
'mystery house'.

'Strange that house never lets, isn’t it?’ the young man re¬
marked as they paused in front of it and gazed up at the win¬
dows. 'I wonder what’s wrong with it/

'Why, they do say as how it’s haunted/ the girl replied, 'but
ghosts is all nonsense, ain’t they, Reg? 1

*1 reckon so/ Reg laughed. Then, fired with a sudden in¬
spiration, *1 say, supposing we sit for a while in the back
garden. It will be nice and quiet there/

From the garden the couple commanded a complete view of
the back of the house, and they were commenting on the
appearance of it, how peculiarly neglected and deserted it
looked, when they simultaneously gave vent to a deep 'Oh I f
Exactly opposite them on the first floor was a window, and
up to the present it had been bathed in gloom.

Now, however, quite suddenly it became illuminated with
a dull, glimmering light of an unhealthy bluish colour which
appeared to originate from within the building.

They fled precipitately and on future occasions took very
good care to give the 'mystery house’ a distinctly wide berth.

The next recorded happenings at the house occurred quite
late in its life. A Mrs. Eveley took it for six months, and her
household consisted of herself, grown-up daughter Barbara,
and two servants, Matilda and Phyllis. The disturbances began
the very first night of their tenancy. Going to bed somewhat
early, as she was very tired, Barbara awoke with a violent start
to see in the white moonlight a very tall form in black bending
over her, and the next moment the bedclothes were snatched
violently off her. The bed was then shaken vigorously to and
fro.

46

THE LONDON VILLA OF GHOSTLY DREAD

This went on for some seconds when at last, to her infinite
relief, the figure left the bedside, and she heard the door give
a loud slam.

Barbara’s terror was so great that for some minutes she dared
not stir. As soon, however, as her faculties had somewhat re¬
covered from the shock, she sprang out of bed and rushed into
her mother's room. Mrs. Eveley was a very strong-minded
woman, not in the least degree afraid of burglars, and rousing
the servants she bade them search the house with her.

They did so, going into every room and examining the
cellar and cupboards, but they found no one, and could dis¬
cover nothing which would explain in any way the remarkable
occurrence.

About a week later the whole household was aroused in the
middle of the night by the sound of hammering, coming ap¬
parently from the basement of the house. As the servants
refused point blank to accompany Mrs. Eveley downstairs to
see what it was, she lit her candle and went alone.

When she arrived in the basement she found the kitchen
door wide open, while on the table, in the centre of the floor,
she saw what appeared to be an enormous black coffin. The
shock at encountering such a ghastly spectacle was so terrific
that she at once fainted.

Hearing her fall Barbara and the maids hastened to her
assistance, and on reaching the basement all three saw the
shadowy outlines of something they could only describe as
infinitely alarming and grotesque come out of the kitchen,
run past them and ascend the staircase with gigantic bounds.
This came as the climax, and within a week the house once
again stood empty.

The house had been standing empty for some long time
when the landlord, happening to visit it one day, fancied he
could detea a smell of gas. He sent for a plumber, and prior
to the man’s arrival waited in one of the rooms. After a while,
hearing, as he thought, a noise on the top landing he ran up¬
stairs to ascertain the cause of it, and not discovering anything
to account for it came down again, and was surprised to find

47

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

the plumber had arrived and was already engaged at his job.

'How on earth did you get in?’ he said to the man. ‘I made
sure I had shut all the doors.’ The man made no reply, how¬
ever, and the landlord, concluding he must be deaf, watched
him in silence for some minutes, and then hearing a knock at
the front door went to see who was there.

Rather to his astonishment it was another plumber.

'Why, how is this?' he said. 'One of your men is already here.
Surely there is no need for two.’

'It can’t be one of our men, sir,’ the plumber responded, 'for
I am the only man available. He must have come from some¬
where else.’

‘You are from Smith’s, are you not?’ the landlord asked.

’Yes, sir,’ was the reply.

‘Well, the other man must have come from them too,' the
landlord answered, 'for that is the only firm I sent to. You had
better come inside and see.'

Bidding the man follow him he went to the room where he
had left the workman, but there was no sign of him. Remark¬
ing that it was very odd he called out, but there was no res¬
ponse. He then searched the premises, but there were no traces
of the workman anywhere. And when Smith’s man examined
the gas pipes he quickly found the leakage. There were no
evidences whatever of any attempt having been made at a
repair.

The landlord, of course, knew the reputation the ‘mystery
house’ had acquired, and he could only conclude that what
he had witnessed was another of its already long list of ghosts.

The original owner of the house, who had committed
suicide, had been a man of very bad reputation, and it was
thought that the hauntings might either be due to his earth-
bound evil spirit, or to something that occurred on the site of
the house before it was built.

48

AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY

Not far from St. Shepherd’s Grove, Dublin, there is an isolated
house dating back to the days of Dutch William. For years
it stood empty, no one caring to stay in it for long, and Mrs-
Valentine, the owner, was despairing of letting it when
Colonel Ward took it furnished for a year.

His wife and children moved in shortly before Christmas, he
being unable to join them as yet. The first few days passed
uneventfully. It was not until Mrs. Ward had been there a
week that anything disturbing happened.

She was in the sitting-room reading when there was a rap
on the door; it sounded as if it was made with bare knuckles.
Wondering who it could possibly be as the servants had gone
out, Mrs. Ward went to the door. Confronting her was an old
woman in a mob-cap and old-fashioned dress. She was very
ugly. Raising a skinny hand she shook it menacingly at Mrs.
Ward, leered, and turning sharply round she ran across the
hall and up the stairs, remarkably nimble for one of her age.

Considerably startled Mrs. Ward tried to persuade herself
that the old woman was a friend of the maids. She resumed
her seat by the fire, and had barely sat down, when, much to
her relief the maids returned.

The next day Colonel Ward came. That night he sat up late.
It was close on one o’clock when, candle in hand—there was
no gas in the house—he went into the hall. The fluctuating
light from the candle was not enough to dissipate the gloom.
Fancying he heard a noise he turned, and found himself face
to face with the old hag his wife had seen. An odd light enve¬
loped her and illumined her pale eyes, which glowed
maliciously as they met the Colonel's startled gaze.

'Who are you?’ he summered.

She did not reply but, leering at him, she ran across the
hall and ascended the staircase. When near a bend she paused

D

49

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

and, looking down, shook her fist. Then, turning, she vanished
quickly out of sight.

At breakfast that morning Colonel Ward said, *My dear, I
have seen your old woman. 1 do not wonder that you were
scared. I was too. She is not pretty.'

In the afternoon Jack Deane, Mrs. Ward’s brother, who had
just left Sandhurst and was waiting for a commission, came to
spend Christmas with them.

He was in the boot-room when he saw a woman standing in
the doorway.

‘Here, mother,' he exclaimed, ‘take this boot to be cleaned.'

Picking up one of his boots he threw it across, and to his
surprise it passed right through her. Thinking that it must
be his fancy, he threw the other boot, and the same thing
happened. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was not dream¬
ing. The woman was still there, and for the first time he saw
her face illumined in the gloom. It was that of a very ugly old
woman.

He took a step towards her, and she disappeared.

Much concerned now Deane sought his sister and told her
that he must have been working too hard, and, as a result, was
having hallucinations.

'It was no hallucination,’ Mrs. Ward said. ‘What you saw
was a ghost. Paul {her husband) and I have both seen the old
woman.'

The three of them, Colonel and Mrs. Ward and Jack Deane
were standing in the hall talking that evening, when they
heard the clinking of glass and rattling of china. The sounds
came from the dining-room where the table was loaded with
glass and china ready for the party they were having the next
day, Christmas Eve.

They at once went to the room. The moment they opened
the door there was a tremendous crash, and all the glass and
china fell upon the floor.

Lying on the floor was the bleeding body of a boy of about
twelve years of age. Bending over him, a look of fiendish glee
on her beautiful face, was a young woman dressed in a costume

5 °

AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY

of a bygone age, her white arms and breast gleaming ivith gold
and jewels.

By the side of her crouched the old hag, who leered at the
intruders, an expression of devilish malice on her puckered
up face. A weird light enveloped the three figures.

As the appalled intruders stared at the scene before them
the room darkened, and there was an eerie silence.

The Wards left the house the next day.

5 *

THE HAUNTED BUOY

Paget Hickman was one of my father’s old friends. Like my
father and myself he was greatly interested in the supernatural.

He was at a resort in Kent one summer when he had an
extraordinary experience. He was on the beach on very hot
day, and was looking for a resting spot when he saw an old
buoy high and dry ashore. He went to it, sat down, and rested
his back against it.

Overcome with the heat and tired with walking about, he
presently dozed. How long he was in that state he did not
know. When he came out of it he found himself standing in
front of a garden gate on which was a nameplate: Dr. Horace
Crawley. He opened the gate, walked up the path, and
knocked at the door. A young and very attractive woman
opened it.

'Oh, I am so glad that you have come, Ralph,’ she exclaimed.
‘You are very prompt. He is dead.’

Hickman found himself smiling, and said, ‘When did he
die?'

‘Two or three minutes before I rang you,’ the woman re¬
plied. ’I want you with me when the doctor comes.'

She took him to a back room on the first floor, where a grey¬
haired man, who looked many years older than the woman
was in bed. Hickman was looking at the man when the woman
backed out of the room, turned the key, and locked him in.

‘You are cooked,' she cried, 'really caught! You poisoned
him with that drug you got in Brazil. There is some of it in
your clothes in your wardrobe. I put it there. Now for the
police.*

It was all so sudden that for some moments Hickman stood
as one stunned; then, realizing his danger, he tiptoed softly to
the window and looked out of it. It was a deep drop to the
back garden below. Raising the window with as little noise as

52

THE HAUNTED BUOV

possible, he swung over the sill, and, trusting to luck, dropped.

The woman cried, 'Eustace, Eustace, he’s getting away—
stop him!’ A tall, strongly-built man rushed out of the
back of the house and gave chase to Hickman, who, shaken
by his fall, had only just picked himself up. He at once fled.

The tall man, shouting ‘Murderer!’ pursued him. Round
to the front of the house Hickman spurted—he had been a
fast sprinter at school—and made for the sea front.

A party of picnickers were in a field. Hearing the tall dark
man crying ‘Murderer 1 Stop him!' they joined in the chase.
Panting and nearly worn out Hickman got to the beach.
Several men who were there tried to stop him, but dodging
them he got to the buoy, scrambled into it and tugged at the
lid that was open. It came down and closed with a click.

He heard his pursuers shouting, banging on the buoy and
trying to lift the cover, but they could not. It was automatically
locked. He chuckled. By and by the air felt close and he per¬
spired. There was no ventilation. Which was the worst, to be
hanged for murder or suffocated? The air grew closer and
closer. There was a tight feeling in his chest. He gasped and
tried to swallow. His throat was dry—parched.

Hickman suffered from claustrophobia—always had a great
dread of being confined in a narrow space. He was now. He
beat the sides of the buoy. He would rather be hanged than
endure more of what he was undergoing.

He cursed Mrs. Crawley, cursed the day that he was born,
even cursed the Creator. His tongue seemed on fire. To quench
his awful thirst he licked the sweat on his hands and body.
It felt as if his eyes were protruded yet they saw nothing. A
stopping in one of his teeth seemed molten.

Then suddenly something was happening—there was
motion. Dimly his senses grasped it. Slowly, very slowly he was
being borne to the sea. A churning and rolling about produced
nausea. He was on the seas. He lost consciousness.

When Hickman came to he was lying on the baking hot
beach with his back against the buoy. It took him some time
to realize that his dreadful experience was but a dream. He

53

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

made enquiries about the buoy, and learned that it was well
known to be haunted, and that there was a probable explana¬
tion of the haunting.

It was this: —

Several years before Julian Harper, a married businessman
in the resort, had been one of Mrs. Crawley’s clandestine
lovers. He was rung up one day by her and asked to come
quickly as her husband was very ill. He went, and had in
actuality experienced all that Hickman had undergone in the
dream—the accusation of poisoning, the escape from the house,
the pursuit, the getting into the buoy and the awful suffer¬
ing when in it. But, fortunately for Harper, a workman who
had been repairing the buoy had left his wallet in it, which
brought him back to the beach. The workman found Harper
unconscious, overcome by the lack of air.

No action was taken against Harper; apparently Mrs.
Crawley and her accomplice afterwards had no desire to
substantiate their accusation.

54

THE MAN IN BOILING LEAD

In Liddesdale, about five miles off the highway from Carlisle
to Jedburgh, stands the ruin of Hermitage Castle, traditionally
reputed to be one of the worst haunted castles in Scotland. It
is situated in a valley amid green hills with Hermitage Water,
a lovely babbling stream, coursing along over a rocky bed at
the foot of it.

The oldest part of the castle, grey and hoary with age, was
probably built by Nicholas de Soulis in the thirteenth century.
It functioned as one of the great, immensely strong fortresses
on the Scottish border. It was added to in or about the fifteenth
century. After the ownership of it by the family of de Soulis,
the castle passed into the hands of the Douglasses, and after¬
wards became the property of the Earls of Bothwell.

It was to Hermitage Castle that Mary Queen of Scots rode
one day from Jedburgh to visit Bothwell, who had been
wounded in a fight with a robber.

The eerie reputation earned by the castle is largely due to
William de Soulis, who was regarded by the local inhabitants
as a sorcerer, and believed to practise black magic in a castle
dungeon. With his followers, who were as cruel and savage as
himself, he pillaged and ravaged not only Liddesdale but ter¬
ritories far beyond iL

No one resented Soulis’ conduct and detested him more
heartily than the young chieftain of Keilder, a land on the
other side of the Scottish border, who for his great strength
and agility, was popularly known as the Cout (colt). The two
had always been sworn enemies. Great therefore was the Cout's
astonishment one day when a messenger bearing an olive
branch, as an emblem of peace, came to Keilder with an invita¬
tion to a banquet at Hermitage.

In spite of the entreaties of his beautiful young wife not to
accept the invitation, and a warning by the Brown Man of the

55

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Moor, a local seer and prophet, the Cout, fearless of danger,
went to Hermitage Castle accompanied by a score of his friends
and retainers.

Soulis greeted him cordially with many professions of regret
that they should ever have been on bad terms. The fare was
sumptuous, the wine, probably obtained in a marauding ex¬
pedition, excellent.

During the meal Soulis cunningly contrived to cast a black
magic spell over the Gout's followers; the Cout, who was im¬
mune from it owing to a charm given him by the Brown Man
of the Moor, sprang up from the table, knocked down the men
who tried to seize him and sped out of the castle. He was
pursued by Soulis and a troop of armed men.

In trying to leap over Hermitage Water the Cout fell into a
deep pool and was held down in it till he was drowned. The
pool is still rail ed the Cout's Linn, and in the castle grounds
is a gigantic grave alleged to be that of the murdered Cout.

The foul murder of the Cout and the continued depreda¬
tions by Soulis at last roused all Liddesdale and the surround¬
ing lands against him. A petition was presented to the King
asking his permission to destroy Soulis. The King, tired of
hearing constant complaints about Soulis said, 'Oh, boil him
if you please, but let me hear no more of him.'

He was taken at his word. The enemies of Soulis attacked
Hermitage Castle, overcame its defenders and seized Soulis.
As he was being led away to his doom, he managed to throw
the key of the black magic dungeon to his familiar spirit 'Red¬
cap', with the injunction to keep the dungeon ever afterwards
locked.

He was taken to the Nine-Stane Rig, a Druidical circle,
and thrust head-first into a cauldron of boiling lead.

‘In a circle of stones they placed the pot

On a circle of stones but barely nine

They heated it red and fiery hot

Till the burnished brass did glimmer and shine.

They rolled him up in a sheet of lead

56

THE MAN IN BOILING LEAD

A sheet of lead for a funeral pall
They plunged him in the cauldron red
And melted him lead and bones and all.

At the Skelf-Hill the cauldron still
The men of Liddesdale can show
And on the spot where they boiled the pot
The spreat (water rush) and the deep-hair

(coarse pointed grass) ne’er shall grow.'

The cauldron is said to have been preserved for very many
years at Skelf-Hill, a hamlet between Hawick and Hermitage.

The King, soon after the petitioners left him, fearful lest
they should take what he said to them literally, tried to stop
them before they got to Hermitage but was too late.

'Redcap’ did as Soulis bade him and kept the door of the
black magic dungeon locked. Ever afterwards it was haunted
by the earthbound ghost of Soulis and the evil spirits he had
evocated. People passing by the castle at night testified to hear¬
ing blood-curdling yells and demoniacal laughter.

Nor was that the only haunted dungeon in the grim old
castle. In 1324 Sir William Douglas, the then owner of Her¬
mitage, becoming jealous of his friend, the gallant and popular
Sir Alexander Ramsay, who had been appointed Sheriff of
Teviotdale, a post that he, Sir William, had long coveted,
treacherously seized Ramsay and starved him to death in a
dungeon; for several days the wretched captive existed on
grains of com that dribbled down from a granary overhead.

For years after Ramsay’s death heart-rending cries and
groans could be heard at night coming from the dungeon in
which he had been confined.

57

THE CREEPING HAND OF MAIDA VALE

A somewhat impecunious family named Newman, attracted
by the remarkably low rental of a house in Maida Vale,
London, took it on a three-year lease. They moved into it in
December, and for the first few months of their tenancy noth¬
ing occurred to suggest even remotely that the house was
haunted.

Then, in March, shortly after the advent of Maisie Newman,
a buxom girl of about twenty years of age, to take up her abode
once more with her parents, things began to happen.

Coming home one afternoon Maisie went into a room in the
basement to take off her boots, and, while there, suddenly saw
an old woman wearing an old-fashioned black gown, a white
cap, the somewhat crumpled border of which fitted closely to
her head, and a white handkerchief pinned across her bosom,
standing in the doorway looking at her.

Thinking it was either a new servant or a daily, Maisie
called out casually: ‘Here, Mary, or Jane, or whoever you are,
take these boots like a dear and dry them for me.'

They were very high ‘lace-ups' and Maisie tossed them care¬
lessly, one after the other, at the old woman. To her unmiti¬
gated surprise and horror, the boots went right through the
aged dame, who, turning slowly round, disappeared in the
gloom of the narrow stone pavement outside.

As soon as she could pull herself together Maisie ran up¬
stairs, and, meeting her mother in the hall, was explaining to
her what had happened when she suddenly stopped short,
pointed excitedly at the staircase and exclaimed, ‘There she
is—that is the woman!'

Looking in the direction Maisie indicated, Mrs. Newman
saw to her astonishment the figure Maisie had just described
in the act of ascending the stairs.

Remembering a test for hallucination that had been ex-

58

THE CREEPING HAND OF MAIDA VALE

plained to her a short time before by a medical man, Mrs.
Newman now quickly determined to try it. Pressing one
eye, so as to throw it out of parallel focus with the other,
she stared hard at the figure, which immediately appeared
double.

Convinced now that what she saw was objective, for had it
been merely the result of hallucination it would have under¬
gone no change from the test applied to it, Mrs. Newman at
once proceeded to follow the figure upstairs.

Moving absolutely noiselessly, it had gone about halfway
up the second flight when it abruptly vanished, and Mrs.
Newman and Maisie found themselves staring into empty
space.

This was the Newmans’ first experience with the unknown.
The second occurred a few days later. Mr. Newman, who
never finished in the City very early, and who had, as a rule,
much correspondence to attend to when he got home, was in
the habit of sitting up late, and on the night in question it
was close on twelve before he put down his pen and rose to go
to bed.

Switching the light off and gently closing the study door,
for everyone else had long since retired, he crossed the hall
on tiptoe and began to ascend the stairs. The intense and un¬
usual (so he thought) silence of the house struck him forcibly.
The window on the landing overlooking the garden in the
rear of the house was open, and the tapping of the ivy against
the glass sounded so strangely loud that Mr. Newman was for
a moment quite startled. He could almost have fancied it was
someone outside rapping. And then a draught of cold air
rustling past him set the shabby, weather-worn front door
rattling on its hinges, and the rattling was so pronounced that
it really seemed as if someone was turning the handle and
trying to gain admittance.

Step by step Mr. Newman mounted the stairs. He had
arrived on the middle step of the second flight leading to the
first floor, when he suddenly felt himself collide with some¬
thing that was apparently obstructing his way.

59

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Wondering whether he was asleep or awake, he rubbed his
eyes vigorously, and again attempted to ascend. The same
thing happened. He came right up against some invisible
object, and this time he drew back with a violent shudder.

He was still standing on the edge of the stair, shivering and
not knowing what to do, when something cold and clammy
seemed to fasten round his throat, and in another instant he
began to choke.

He tried to free himself, but though he could distinctly feel
the thing round his neck throttling him, he could grasp noth¬
ing with his fingers. He threw out his arms and beat the air
wildly, he stamped on the ground and kicked, but it was of
no avail. He could feel or touch nothing, and all the while the
sensation of being strangled intensified more and more.

At last, just as he was on the verge of losing consciousness,
and the buzzing in his ears had developed into thunderclaps,
a door from somewhere overhead opened and a voice that
might have come from several houses away, it seemed so re¬
mote, called: 'Father, Father—whatever is the matter?'

In a moment Mr. Newman experienced a great sensation
of relief. The thing, whatever it was, relaxed its hold and he
was able once again to breathe freely.

Up to that time he had not felt as much actual fear as re¬
pugnance. There had been something in the touch that had
repelled and shocked him, but now that it was gone reaction
set in, and Maisie, for it was she who had called out, found
him standing on the stair, looking ghastly white and trembling.

The next experience of the haunting concerned the New¬
mans' tortoiseshell cat, which soon showed she was just as
much in possession of the psychic sense as any dog or human.

To begin with, although Julie, as the cat was called, was
decidedly fond of wandering about the upper part of the house
during the daytime, nothing would induce her to remain there
after dark. The moment it began to grow dusk, she was in¬
variably seen hurrying downstairs to the ground floor or
kitchen, and no amount of coaxing would persuade her to go
upstairs again till the following morning. Also, for no apparent

60

THE CREEPING HAND OF MAIDA VALE

reason, she would sometimes in the evening exhibit signs of
panic, and if the door of the room she was in happened to be
shut, she would claw it frantically in her efforts to get out.

One day, early in April, Mr. Newman’s married daughter,
Violet, accompanied by her only child, Delia, came on a visit
to the house. Like most children, Delia was very fond of play¬
ing with animals, and she soon struck up a friendship with
Julie.

One evening, shortly after tea, her mother, hearing a com¬
motion in the breakfast room, where she had left Delia play¬
ing with Julie, ran to see what was the matter. To her relief,
Delia was all right, and on being asked what all the noise was
about, replied, ‘Why, Julie has behaved so badly, I didn’t
know she was such a naughty, jealous old thing. While I was
playing with her a few minutes ago, another animal came into
the room and wanted to join in.’

‘Another animal]’ Delia’s mother exclaimed in great
astonishment. ‘What animal?’

‘Well, 1 don’t exactly know what is was. Mummy,' Delia
replied, ‘for somehow I couldn't see it very plainly. It seemed
to be all misty, but it wasn’t a cat or a dog, for it had long, funny
ears and moved about ever so fast. I tried to touch it, but it
wouldn’t let me, and it jumped about so I couldn’t get very
near it. Julie gave up playing with me the moment it appeared,
and she kept scratching at the door so hard that I let her out,
for I was afraid Granny would be angry. Just look at what the
naughty thing did,’ and Delia pointed at the marks of Julie's
daws on the door.

‘I see,’ her mother said, shaking her head severely, 'but tell
me, Delia, what happened to the animal you talk about?
Where is it now?’

'In that cupboard!’ Delia cried, pointing to a small cup¬
board near the fireplace. 'It ran in there when I was chasing
it; that is what all the noise was about, and as soon as I had
it nice and safe inside I shut the door and bolted it.' The child
clapped her hands gleefully.

'And it is there still?’ her mother asked anxiously.

61

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

'Oh, yes,' Delia laughed. ‘It couldn't possibly get out. Seel ’
and, tiptoeing gently to the cupboard, she shot back the bolt
and threw open the door.

There was nothing whatever inside.

The last experience the Newman family had with the un¬
known in this house occurred a night or two later. The mar¬
ried daughter, Violet, slept with Maisie in a room on the first
floor. On this particular night they both retired to bed some¬
what earlier than usual; Maisie fell asleep almost as soon as
her head touched the pillow, while Violet lay propped up with
pillows reading. At length, growing weary, she fell asleep too.
but soon afterwards awoke suddenly and completely, with a
vivid sense of some extra unlooked-for presence in the room.

She sat up hastily and looked at the candle. She had left it
burning, and very little of it remained. Feeling extraordinarily
awake she took up her book and recommenced reading. By
and by, however, the feeling that this extra unlooked-for
presence was still in the room, close to her, grew so strong that
she put down her book and glanced cautiously around. There
was nothing and no one to be seen, saving Maisie, who lay
sleeping peacefully by her side, and Delia, who was in a small
bed beside them, also fast asleep.

But still Violet was not satisfied: she felt unquestionably
that there was an additional something or someone in the room
with them. Peering round her furtively, for the extraordinary
stillness in the atmosphere generated fear, a fear to which she
had hitherto been a total stranger, she suddenly received a
shock.

On the wall facing her, about midway between the floor and
the ceiling, was a strange and sinister-looking shadow. It was
the shadow of a hand with fingers stretched out, as if in the act
of clutching something. Violet moved her own hands at once,
but that made no difference—the shadow still remained there.
Then she shifted the pillow and various other objects around
her, but the shadow still retained both its shape and position.
Seized with a horrible fascination, she now sat bolt upright
and stared at the hand.

62

THE CREEPING HAND OF MAIDA VALE

It did not seem, somehow, to be a man's hand; it was scarcely
large enough. It was more like the hand of a coarsely-made
woman. The fingers were long, with bony protruding knuckles
and very square tips. There were no rings on any of them, and
the top of the little finger was missing.

It was not merely an ugly hand; it was hideous and repel¬
lent, and Violet, as she sat staring at it, felt just the same feel¬
ing of loathing well up within her as she would have felt had
she been staring at some venomous and repulsive insect.

And now to her horror the shadow suddenly began to move.
Rising slowly, it crept stealthily up the wall, till it eventually
reached the ceiling. There for a moment or two it paused, and
then with a furtive, spider-like movement it cautiously ad¬
vanced over the ceiling, nearer and nearer to the bed, till it
finally halted exactly over Maisie's head.

A terrible fear now seized Violet. She tried to cry out, to
utter any sound, but she could not. She was tongue-tied and
helpless, and in this condition she was compelled to witness
all that followed. She saw the shadow slowly leave the ceiling
and descend the wall, always with the same horrible insect-like
movements, till it came to about on a level with Maisie's
head.

Then, quite suddenly, it vanished, and immediately after¬
wards Maisie moved, while an expression of fear, speedily
followed by one of loathing, which in its turn was supplanted
by one of pain, convulsed her features.

Violet, still unable to move a hand or foot or utter a sound,
was now compelled to watch her sister undergoing physical
as well as mental torture, for she appeared to be labouring
for breath, precisely as if she was being very gradually but
surely throttled.

When she awoke she told Violet that she had just had the
most horrible dream. She had dreamed that someone had tried
desperately hard to strangle her, and so realistic had it all been
that she could still feel the fingers pressing with hideous
ferocity on her windpipe.

Violet then told Maisie about the hand, and for the rest of

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

the night the two sisters lay awake, talking, with candles burn¬
ing by the bedside.

In the morning they told their parents what had occurred,
and insisted on them leaving the house at once.

Mr. Newman now thought it high time to make enquiries,
and as, on doing so, he learned that the house had long borne
a reputation for being haunted, he straightway interviewed
the landlord, the interview resulting in his being let off the
remainder of the lease on payment of what amounted to little
more than a nominal sum.

Mr. Newman made enquiries about the house but learned
nothing more than that it had been rumoured to be haunted
for a long time, and that some very queer people were said to
have once lived there.

64

THE MAN ON THE LANDING

A very strange case of complex hauntings occurred, and 1
believe even yet occurs, in a fine old country mansion, once
the home of the Rickard family, near Weymouth.

It is a queer, rambling building, full of winding oak stair¬
cases and long narrow corridors. Some of its windows look
down on a gloomy courtyard and others on the even more
gloomy burial ground of a very ancient church. Viewed in the
daytime, even, the atmosphere of the place impresses one with
a sense of loneliness, and this sense deepens as the day pro¬
gresses.

After sunset, when the shadows from the great elms and firs
clustering around the house darken its walls and windows, the
effect is ghostly in the extreme, and it would be a matter of
positive surprise to a believer in the superphysical if the place
did not contain a ghost.

Actually it is said to contain at least two. One of them
appeared some years ago to a Mrs. Walters, who was on a visit
to the then tenants of the house.

Towards dusk one afternoon Mrs. Walters left her children
in the nursery to dress for dinner, and on the landing outside
met her daughter-in-law, also a visitor.

While they were standing talking Mrs. Walters suddenly
heard footsteps, and on looking down the staircase whence
they came she saw a tall man with iron-grey hair in the act of
ascending.

Struck with his appearance, for there was something strange
about him, she watched him mount to the top of the stairs
and then cross the landing some few yards from where they
stood. Advancing towards a door leading into what was at one
time an oratory, but which had for some years past served as
a kind of a box-room, he opened it very stealthily, and, enter¬
ing, closed it gently to.

e

65

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Convinced now that he was a thief, Mrs. Walters at once ran
to the door and flung it open. To her amazement, however,
no one was there.

Around her lay a pile of trunks and miscellaneous pieces
of funiture, but of the grey-haired man there was no trace.

Mrs. Walters at once told her daughter-in-law what had
happened and asked if she could in any way account for it. To
add to her mystification, however, her daughter-in-law denied
ever having seen the grey-haired man and tried to persuade
her it was sheer imagination.

They were still discussing the matter when their hostess,
attracted by their voices, which were raised somewhat high,
appeared on the scene, and, on hearing Mrs. Walters’ story,
at once exclaimed, ‘Why, that was the ghost!'

She then went on to explain that the house was haunted by
the ghost of an old man, popularly believed to have been
murdered in it centuries ago, in a manner too horrible to
describe.

On another occasion Sir C. T-, the tenant of the house,

entertained two judges who were on their way to the assizes at
Dorchester.

During the meal one of the judges was very talkative and
cheerful, while the other hardly said a word but sat wrapped
in gloomy abstraction. Afterwards, when they were driving
together to Weymouth railway station, to catch the train for
Dorchester, the gloomy judge suddenly observed to the cheer¬
ful one, ‘I say, do you know why I was so silent at dinner?’

‘No,’ said his friend. ‘Why?*

‘You will laugh at me. I dare say, when I tell you,’ replied
the other. ‘It was because I saw, standing behind our hostess’s
chair, all the time we were at the table, a figure that was the
exact counterpart of herself.’

‘Nonsense,’ laughed the cheerful judge.

'It’s as true as I’m sitting here,’ the gloomy judge said, ‘and
you may depend upon it, we shall hear bad news of her before
long!*

What he said proved only too true, for within an hour after

66

THE MAN ON THE LANDING

they had left Sir C. T.’s, Lady T. retired to her own apartment
and hanged herself.

Still another haunting. One summer evening some years
ago two girls were standing at one of the windows of the old
house, drinking in the sweet-scented air and admiring the
effects of the soft white moonbeams on the beautiful old ivy-
covered church, that stood only a little distance from them.

The night was very still—scarcely a whisper of the wind,
nor a rustle of leaves; and in the fields that lay alongside the
church the cattle were standing dumb and motionless. Indeed,
the only sign of life and movement were the bats that whirled
in noiseless flight in and out of the trees and bushes on the lawn.

The girls, who had been silent for some minutes, were about
to interchange remarks, when suddenly a bell began to toll.

'Good heavens,’ one of them exclaimed, ‘why that's the
Passing Belli Who can be dead?’

‘Does it never ring excepting on the occasion of a death?’
said the other.

‘Why, no,’ her companion replied, ‘and I have never heard
it so late at night as this before.’

There was something in the sounds that fascinated them,
and they stood listening till the bell at length ceased and
silence once again reigned. Then they went to bed.

In the morning one of them—the daughter of the then
tenant of the house—received a telegram saying that her
grandfather, who lived in the country, but at some distance
along the coast, had died suddenly, at the very time she and
her friend both heard the Passing Bell.

Much puzzled to know why it had rung, however, for it
seemed hardly likely that the news of his death could have
travelled so quickly, she went to the church and inquired of
the sexton.

‘The Passing Bell?’ he exclaimed, looking at her in amaze¬
ment. ‘And of this church? Miss, you’re mistaken. No one died
in this village last night and no bell rang.’

‘Oh, but it did,’ the girl insisted, ‘for I and my friend both
heard it. Someone must have got into the belfry.’

67

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

'Impossible,’ the sexton said emphatically, ‘for the key of it
has never been out of my possession; no, not for an instant.'

Greatly mystified, the girl then inquired of the vicar, and
with the same result. No one had died in the village, he in¬
formed her, and no bell had tolled. And there the matter
ended, to this day a puzzle.

68

THE LEGEND OF COOKE'S FOLLY

About the year 1673 there was living in a large mansion close
to the Durdham Downs, Bristol, a merchant named John
Cooke, who had made a vast fortune trading overseas. He was
one of the city sheriffs, and greatly esteemed on account of his
wealth. The day came when there was much rejoicing owing
to his wife having given birth to a son. To celebrate the event
a grand banquet was given in the Cookes’ house.

Many rich Bristolians were invited, including Mr. Griffith,
the mayor, Mr. John Hicks, a former mayor, and other local
celebrities. No money was spared to make the occasion a great
and memorable success. There was music and dancing, games
and amusements of all kinds.

One incident alone marred the pleasure of the day. It oc¬
curred during the banquet. In the midst of the general gaiety
a gipsy astrologer, who was known locally as the Wizard of
the West, suddenly entered the dining hall. Full of wrath at
not having been invited to the banquet he stalked through
the long lines of tables and, halting by the host, with a dreadful
scowl on his face, solemnly spoke these lines:

'Twenty times shall Avon's tide
In chains of glistening ice be tied
Twenty times the Woods of Leigh
Shall wave their branches merrily
In Spring burst forth in mantle gay,

And dance in summer’s scorching ray.

Twenty times shall Autumn’s frown
Wither all the green to brown.

And still the child of yesterday
Shall laugh the happy hours away.

That period past, another sun
Shall not his annual circle run

6 9

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Before a silent, secret foe.

Shall strike the boy a deadly blow.

Such and sure his fate shall be;

Seek not to change his destiny/*

The guests listened to this harangue in amazement. They
did not know what to make of it.

The awful malevolence in the gipsy s eyes as they glared at
the host sent a cold chill down Cooke's spine. He sat appalled
till the gipsy had finished speaking and then in tremulous
tones begged him to relent and offered him gold if he would
not predict anything so fearful for his son.

Rejecting his offer with scorn and repeating the last two
lines of his oration, the gipsy marched out of the banqueting
hall.

His departure was as mysterious as his advent. No one saw
him enter the grounds, no one saw him leave, or knew what
subsequently became of him. Mr. Cooke was very superstitious,
he lived in an age when credulity in witches, ghosts and
necromancers was universal. He believed fully in what the
gipsy had said. Nor did the passing years diminish his fear of
the fulfilment of the gipsy's prediction.

The greatest care was taken of the young Cooke who became
a fine, handsome youth. One day when he was in a street in
Bristol, he chanced to see a beautiful girl looking out of a
window. Their glances met and it was a case of love at first
sight with both of them. He obtained an introduction to her,
and after he had seen her several times, he told his father that
he wished to marry her.

His father wanted him to marry someone else, not consider¬
ing the girl his son loved good enough for him. She was a
tradesman's daughter. They had many heated arguments but
in the end John Cooke gave way, and his son become engaged
to the girl he loved. John Cooke would not, however, consent
to his marriage until he was twenty-one.

When that time was drawing near, John Cooke, fearful lest

* <Wild Oats 1 by Albert Smith.

70

THE LEGEND OF COOKE’S FOLLY

the predicted secret foe should get within striking distance
of his son, had a tower built on his ground and made it as safe
as possible against any undesirable intruder. In this tower,
provided with every comfort, John Cooke insisted on his son
remaining till his twenty-first birthday was past. The eve of
that day found the Cookes in a fever of anxiety. The most
careful watch was kept in the grounds lest anyone should try
to enter them without permission.

The weather being very cold, the imprisoned youth was
provided daily with faggots for a fire. He let down a rope from
his windows, and the basket was attached to it. This was done
as usual on that particular eve, John Cooke and his wife gave
sighs of relief as they saw their beloved son draw the basket
of faggots up to his window and take them into the room.

Only a few more hours and the limited time of the predic¬
tion would be passed. And as yet no sign of the secret foe. Mid¬
night came, still no sign, and the Cooke parents retired to rest
rejoicing. The much dreaded enemy had failed to put in an
appearance.

Early in the morning John Cooke went to the tower and
gleefully shouted to his son to come down from his bedroom
and open the front door. There was no reply. Again and
again he shouted, and still no reply,

A ladder was procured, and a servant climbed it and got
into the bedroom.

John Cooke's son was dead, bitten on the right arm by an
adder that had been in the basket of faggots. So the gipsy's
prediction had been fulfilled after all. The adder was the
secret foe.

John Cooke did not long survive his son. After his death the
tower he built was ever known as Cooke's Folly,

7i

THE MAUTHE DOOG

To chose who are under the impression that ghosts invariably
appear in the form of some human being, it may come as a
surprise to learn that there are quite a number of well authen¬
ticated cases of hauntings by the ghosts of domestic and wild
animals. One of the most widely known hauntings by an
animal ghost is that of Peel Castle, in the Isle of Man.

Peel Castle is one of the most beautiful and picturesque
ruins in Great Britain. The animal ghost that has haunted it
intermittently for many centuries is called the Mauthe Doog.
According to Waldron, a famous authority on the Isle of Man,
the Mauthe Doog used to confine its visitations to two parts
of the castle, which was then garrisoned by soldiers and some*
times inhabited by the Lord of the Isle himself, namely, the
guardroom and a subterranean passage connecting the guard-
room with the ancient Cathedral of St. Germain.

It used to be the custom for the sentry who was going off
duty and had charge of the keys of the castle, which he had
to deliver to the captain of the garrison, to be accompanied
to the latter's apartments by the soldier forming one of the
new guard or relief. To him the keys were to be next en¬
trusted.

On one occasion, however, the sentry coming off duty had
a little too much to drink, and in a fit of bravado declared he
would go alone to the captain, even if he met the devil him¬
self. For some seconds the soldiers in the guard-room could
still hear the reverberations of his heavy footsteps on the
flagstones of the passage and the clinking of his sword and
armour; then all was quiet, till the silence was suddenly
broken by the most spine-chilling screams, like those of a man
taken by surprise and thrown into almost indescribable
paroxysms of terror, intermingled with the most unearthly
and terrible sounds. No one dared move or even speak, but

THE MAUTHE DOOG

all sat cowering over the guard-room fire, gripped with such
dread they did not even venture to glance around.

By degrees the sounds ceased. Once again the well known
heavy footsteps and clanking of metal were heard, and pre¬
sently into the guard-room walked, or rather, tottered, the
sentry. He was ghastly pale, his eyes stared wildly and he was
shaking all over.

Those were not the symptoms of drunkenness but of terror—
abject terror. Three days later he died. Shortly before he died
he said that on entering the captain’s room he had seen the
Mauthe Doog in the captain's chair, and he had never re¬
covered from the shock it gave him.

The impression the Mauthe Doog gave to ail who saw it was
that it was not the ghost of any material dog, but a diabolical
spirit in the form of a dog. It was furthermore thought that it
only had the power to harm people who said and did wicked
things, and for that reason the soldiers when on duty in the
castle took care never to use bad or blasphemous language.

The origin of the haunting by the Mauthe Doog is supposed
to date back to pagan times when, according to tradition, black
magic was practised in the Isle of Man, There is no authentic
record of the last appearance of the Mauthe Doog.

In Hood's Magazine of the forties of the last century an¬
other dog haunting is mentioned, not in Peel Castle itself but
in its immediate vicinity. Strange noises were for a time heard
at night coming from the rear of the castle. Some of the occu¬
pants of the castle, being curious to ascertain the cause of the
noises, kept watch one night in the grounds. After they had
been there for some time they heard the most unearthly cries
and howlings, and a huge dark four-footed creature with fiery
eyes rushed past them, plunged into the stream that flowed in
the grounds and made for some trees in the near distance.

In a few moments there were harrowing screams and
diabolical laughter. The sounds lasted for some minutes and
then gradually died away, to be succeeded by an eerie silence.
Utterly appalled, the watchers lost no time in returning to
their quarters in the castle.

73

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

There is yet another traditional haunting associated with
Peel Castle. Its origin dates to the reign of Henry VI. That
unfortunate king incurred the animosity of the proud and
lovely Eleanor, wife of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester. She
was an adept in the black art and, aided by her paramour,
Roger Bolinbroke, and Margery Jourdemain, the notorious
witch of Eye, she made a wax image of Henry.

At midnight the three conspirators took the image to cross¬
roads, and, pronouncing maledictions on the King and utter¬
ing black art incantations, they pricked it with their knives.
They then heated it in a fire and watched it gradually melt,
begging Satan to inflict Henry with a wasting away malady.
As a result of their evil deed the King was suddenly seized with
a mysterious and very painful illness. The Duchess was sus¬
pected of being the cause of it. She, Bolinbroke and Margery
Jourdemain were arrested.

Jourdemain was burned at Smithfield, Bolinbroke was
horribly tortured and hanged, and the Duchess of Gloucester
was imprisoned for life in Peel Castle. She died there after
fourteen years, and ever since her death her ghost is rumoured
to have haunted the castle and its vicinity.

The writer in Hood’s Magazine credits Peel with yet an¬
other haunting. In the old days, beyond the cathedral there
were ponds overgrown with weeds. A mother and her child
had, it was said, suddenly disappeared from the neighbour¬
hood, and mouldering skeletons believed to be theirs were
found close to one of the ponds.

After their discovery the spot where they had been was for
many years haunted by the phantom of a tall woman holding
in her arms a ghastly pallid infant. No horse would pass the
spot at night or any dog go near it.

74

THE PHANTOM DRUMMER OF CORTACHY

According to the traditional story of the haunting of Cortachy
Castle, in Angus, a former Earl of Airlie numbered among
his retainers a very handsome and engaging drummer, of
whom he became exceedingly jealous.

The legend does not inform as to the cause of the jealousy,
but one naturally infers that it had something to do with a
woman, and who more likely than the Countess I Anyhow, one
day the unfortunate drummer, taken unawares, was seized,
bound hand and foot, thrust into his own drum, and hurled
from one of the top windows of the castle on to the flag¬
stones of the courtyard beneath. The result was instantaneous
death.

It appears that the drummer had been threatened by the
enraged Earl several times previously, and that he had been
heard to say that, if his life was taken, he would never cease
haunting the Airlie family. If this were so—and there seems
to be no more feasible explanation of the hauntings—he has
certainly been as good as his word, for whenever a member of
the Ogilvie Clan, to which the Earl belongs, dies, the beating
of a drum is heard, either in Cortachy Castle itself or some¬
where on the estate.

In 1849, for example, a young lady of the name of Dalrymple
went on a visit to Cortachy and, whilst dressing for dinner
the night after her arrival, was greatly astonished to hear,
close underneath her window, the sound of music. At first it
was very faint, but it gradually grew and grew, until it finally
resolved itself into the distinct beating of a drum.

Leaning on the window-sill she listened attentively, for
there was something about the sounds, quite apart from their
novelty, which fascinated her. On they went, louder if any¬
thing than before, and yet their loudness had a certain hollow¬
ness about it that Miss Dalrymple could not liken to anything

75

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

she had ever heard hitherto. She was still listening, immeasur¬
ably interested, when a rap came at the bedroom door, and the
tattooing immediately ceased. It was the maid come to help
her dress for dinner.

Miss Dalrymple casually inquired of the maid who the
drummer was, and her astonishment was further increased
on the servant replying that she had never heard of him, and
was quite sure he was no one in the employ of his lordship.
Determined to find an elucidation of the mystery. Miss Dai¬
ry mple waited till they were all seated at the dinner table,
and then, turning to the Earl, she asked, somewhat abruptly:

'My lord, who is your drummer?’

Her remark produced an extraordinary effect. The Earl
turned deadly pale, and an expression of terror swept over
the face of the Countess, while everyone at the table suddenly
broke off their conversation and appeared extremely embar¬
rassed. Miss Dalrymple, at once seeing she had made a mistake,
adroitly changed the subject and no further allusion was made
to her experience till dinner was over and the company had
retired to the drawing-room. She then mentioned the incident
to one of the family, who looked very surprised, and said:

'What! Have you never heard of the drummer?’

‘No,’ Miss Dalrymple replied. 'Who in the world is he?’

‘Why,’ her companion responded, ‘he is the family ghost of
the Airlies, and is always heard beating a tattoo, either in the
house or the grounds, whenever a death is impending in the
family. The last time he was heard was just before the death
of the Earl's first wife; and that is why the Earl turned so white,
and the present Countess looked so frightened when you en¬
quired who the drummer was. The subject is an extremely
unpleasant one in this family, I can assure you.’

Miss Dalrymple was of course very much upset. The know¬
ledge that her remark, made with all innocence, had caused
such pain and alarm distressed her, while the idea of having
to pass the night in the room whence she had heard those
ominous sounds filled her with the grimmest apprehensions.
It was not without considerable misgivings that, later on in

76

THE PHANTOM DRUMMER OF CORTACHY

the evening, she said goodnight to her host and hostess and
retired to rest.

Isolated and lonely as her quarters had seemed to her before,
they appeared to be infinitely more so now, and as she glanced
round the apartment at the massive four-poster, with its
sepulchral-looking canopy, and the ebony wardrobe, the door
of which swung suspiciously open on her approach, her heart
failed her, and she paused irresolutely on the threshold. Her
eyes then wandered to the cupboard by the fireplace, and she
fancied she heard a slight movement in it, a surreptitious
shuffling, as though some person was concealed within. Her
hair rose accordingly and her heart gave a series of tumultuous
pulsations. Nothing further happening, however, and all being
quite still, she gradually recovered her self-possession and,
trying to assure herself that there were absolutely no grounds
for her fears, she walked boldly up to the wardrobe and, find¬
ing no one in it, next approached the cupboard, and that being
empty too, she proceeded to undress and, getting into bed,
soon fell asleep, not waking till the maid came to call her for
breakfast.

The day passed quite uneventfully, and once more it was time
to dress for dinner. Miss Dalrymple was before the mirror ar¬
ranging her hair, when to her terror faint strains of music again
arose from the courtyard beneath. Unable to tear herself away
from the spot, she was compelled by some restraining influence
to listen and, as before, the sounds grew and grew until they at
last swelled into the loud, reverberating roll of a drum, which,
although coming from apparently just beneath the window,
had nevertheless a curious, far-away sound about it that was
even more noticeable than it had been the previous evening.

Miss Dalrymple wondered now how she had ever associated
those tattooings with anything earthly, they seemed to emanate
so unmistakably from something supernatural, considerably
accentuated by the fitful muttering of the wind, the rustling
of the creeper round the window, and the black, swiftly scud¬
ding clouds.

Unable to endure the thought of spending another whole

77

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

day in the castle. Miss DaJrymple left early the following morn¬
ing, and, calling on her way home at the house of some friends,
told them what had happened*

Five months later the Countess of Airlie, though absolutely
well at the time the phantom drumming was heard, was
taken suddenly ill at Brighton and died within a few days* In
a diary, subsequently discovered among her possessions, a note
in her handwriting was found to the effect that, on hearing
Miss Dairymple mention the drummer, she intuitively felt the
prognostication was intended for her—the Countess—and that
her doom was irrevocably sealed*

The whole circumstances of the case were made known at
the time to Mrs. Crowe, who published them some years after¬
wards in her book 'Night Side of Nature’.

Five years after Miss Dalrymple’s experience, the drumming
was again heard*

A certain young Englishman, whom I shall call Mr* Lovell,
was on his way to the Tulchan, or shooting-lodge of the Earl
of Airlie, where he had been invited to spend a few days by
the Earl's eldest son and heir, Lord Ggilvie* He was riding a
stout pony and had as a guide one of the Earl’s keepers,
also mounted, a typical Highlander, dour, tough and wiry.
For two solid hours they had threaded their way across a bleak
and desolate moot, with the wind from the mountain tops
whistling in their faces and at times almost forcing them to a
standstill For the most part it was pitch dark, but occasionally
a rift in the black, stormy clouds enabled them to catch a
glimpse of the scenery through which they were passing* It
was horribly inhospitable and monotonous—a wild expanse
of brown sodden soil, interspersed at intervals with thick
growths of gorse and bracken and big tarns and swamps, whose
dark surfaces glittered ominously wherever they caught the
straggling moonbeams. Here and there were the white trunks
of decayed trees that lent an additional dreariness to the aspect,
and brought with them a sense of isolation and depression*
Lovell, strongly affected by it all, felt chilled both physically
and mentally*

78

THE PHANTOM DRUMMER OF CORTACHY

At last, to his relief, twinkling lights, which his guide in¬
formed him were those of the Tulchan, were seen some little
distance ahead* Visions of hot drinks and a roaring fire now
rose refreshingly before Lovell's eyes, and he was congratu¬
lating himself on having got so far without mishap when, from
a low ridge of ground just in front of him, came the soft strains
of music*

'Hulloa!' he exclaimed* 'What’s that?’

The guide made no reply, but urged his pony to go faster.
The music grew louder, and the clouds, suddenly parting, let
through a broad belt of moonlight, which illuminated the
whole landscape and threw into strong relief all the outstand¬
ing features* There was not another habitation of any kind,
saving the Tulchan, visible for miles round, and no cover for
anyone to find concealment in, excepting a few very low gorse
bushes; consequently Lovell felt he must be mistaken, and
that the music must after all emanate from the shooting-lodge.
As they advanced it became louder and louder, until presently
it developed into the unmistakable beating of a drum, a steady
and continuous roll, that conveyed with it an extraordinary
feeling of uncanniness*

Lovell again asked his guide the meaning of it, but the
latter, pretending not to hear him, urged his pony into a furi¬
ous gallop* They were soon level with the ridge and the few
gorse bushes that lay scattered along it, but there were no signs
of anyone in hiding there, and the drumming followed them*

On their arrival at the door of the Tulchan it abruptly
terminated, nor did Lovell ever hear it again*

To his surprise Lord Qgilvie was not there to welcome him,
and he was informed that his lordship had been unexpectedly
summoned to London on account of the illness of his father*
The following day news was received that the Earl had passed
away in the night and Lovell was then informed that the
drumming he had heard—and which the keeper now admitted
having heard also—had been for many generations a sure prog¬
nostication of death in the Ogilvie family*

79

THE GHOSTS OF THE BEECHES

Major Horace Wyndhara, R.E. (ret.), was looking for a house
in the country. A firm of estate agents in Upper Norwood, to
whom he went, gave him the names of a number of houses with¬
out success as the rent was too high, or he did not like the situa¬
tion, and he was beginning to despair when they at length
found The Beeches in Lancashire, with a very low rental. The
estate was within thirty miles of Manchester.

Wyndham trained to Wrington, the nearest station to The
Beeches, and from there took a taxi to Saxby, a large village
on the outskirts of which The Beeches lay. It was a building
shaped like two unequal sides of a rectangle. The walls were
overgrown with ivy and tall trees sheltered it on either side.
A winding carriage drive led up to the house, which was faced
by a lawn, at the far side of which was a lake spanned by a
long wooden bridge.

The bridge had a curious fascination for Wyndham. He
leaned over the railing on one side of it, and peered into the
water, wondering what secrets the dark depths might con¬
tain. The house was very old and had changed hands
repeatedly.

He liked it, and took it on a three-year lease, returning to
see the furniture moved in. His family, consisting of his wife,
his son Robin, a cadet at Sandhurst, and his daughters, Nora
and Lilian, were to follow him in two days.

After all the furniture had been assigned to their proper
places and he had had supper, Wyndham sat for a time in
front of a fire in the sitting-room, and then went to his bed¬
room. Besides himself in the house there was Mrs. Bird, the
cook, and Gertrude Wise, one of the maids; the rest of the
servants were to come with the family. He thought as he sat
before the fire, prior to getting in between the sheets, how
incongruous the furniture looked amid the old world settings

So

THE GHOSTS OF THE BEECHES

—the oak panelling on the walls, the ingle and the ancient
cornices.

He got out of his easy chair and was about to cross the floor
when he stopped short, and rubbed his eyes to make sure he
was not dreaming.

He was certain the pillow had been flat on the bed, had it
not been he would have noticed it. But now it was upright,
and no longer smooth. Its shape was changing, changing very
gradually into the resemblance of a face, the distorted face of
a man—eyes staring, mouth gaping and distended. Wyndham
went to the bed and put the pillow in its place. The desire
to get into bed had now gone. He resumed his seat by the fire.
The bed, however, had a strange fascination for him. He felt
obliged to look at it. The bedclothes moved and seemed to be
in a state of convulsion. Presently they rose pyramidally higher
and higher and assumed a figure like that of a mal-farmed
person, with a peak-shaped head. The now sinister fashioned
eyes suggested malicious amusement, and the mouth leered
mockingly. The size and malignity of the figure appalled
Wyndham and for some moments he sat petrified.

At last, pulling himself together with an effort, he walked
to the bed, and as he did so the figure subsided, and the clothes
fell into their proper place.

‘Absurd!' Wyndham muttered. ‘Perfectly ridiculous! I
must have been dreaming,’ But he knew it was no dream and
that there was something devilish funny about the bedstead.
He did not relish the idea of sleeping in the dark but forced
himself to do so, and slept soundly till the morning.

Nothing more of note occurred till after the family had
moved in. Robin, who had finished his first term at Sandhurst,
was the next to have an experience.

He was approaching the lake one afternoon when he saw
two men, one tall, the other short, on the bridge. The tall
man suddenly caught hold of the other, and, in spite of the
smaller man’s struggles, hurled him over the railings and into
the lake. Full of anger at such a cowardly attack Robin rushed
to the bridge, but on reaching it saw no sign of the tall man.

* 81

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Yet he had been in the centre of the bridge—and there was
nowhere for him to hide. Robin then peered down into the
dark water. It was perfectly calm and undisturbed—nothing
to be seen of the short man. Completely mystified he retraced
his steps to the house, not mentioning the incident to anyone.

It was Nora’s turn next. She was in the orchard taking down
apples one morning when someone touched her shoulder. She
turned round and was not a little startled to see a tall, shrouded
figure in black confronting her. It remained stationary for
some moments, and then, walking away, was lost to view
among the trees.

Hastening to the house she told Lilian and Robin about
the shrouded figure. Lilian laughed and said it must have been
a monk from a neighbouring monastery. Robin thought of
the man he had seen on the bridge, but still said nothing.

Mr. and Mrs. Wyndham occupied separate bedrooms, close
to one another. Mrs. Wyndham was preparing to undress one
night when the shaking of the heavy curtain covering the oriel
window made her look wonderingly at it. There was no wind.
It was a very calm night. She was still gazing at the curtain
when it bulged out as if someone was standing behind it.

To utter a sound might make whoever was there emerge
and attack her, so she stole as noiselessly as possible to the door,
opened it, then sprang out to the landing and ran to her hus¬
band. He called Robin, and the two of them went into Mrs.
Wyndham’s room and searched everywhere. There was no
trace of an intruder. The mystery of the bulging curtain re¬
mained unsolved.

Then, one of the maids told the cook that she had been
awakened in the night by an icy hand on her forehead. She
was so terrified that she buried her head under the clothes,
and did not stir till the rooming. She said if it occurred again
she would leave.

The butler told Wyndham in confidence that the house
was haunted—he had seen a shrouded figure in black bending
over him in the night. It had been a dreadful shock.

But Lilian scoffed at the butler's account of his ghostly ex¬

82

THE GHOSTS OF THE BEECHES

perience. ‘It was a nightmare/ she said. 'He had eaten too
much at supper.’ He was a big eater.

Lilians room was isolated at the end of the corridor. She
had just got into bed one night when she heard footsteps in
the corridor. They halted at the door of her room, and through
the closed and locked door something crawled in. It looked
vaguely like a person on all fours, and yet there was a non¬
human element about it—a semi-animal appearance. It had
a scaly body and bald, bulbous head.

It came with a crab-like motion, stealthily towards her. Com¬
pelled by a force she could not resist, she sat up and watched
the thing getting slowly nearer and nearer to her. Reaching
the bed it crawled, to her terror, under it, and she felt the bed
heave up.

Tumbling out of it, all her scepticism now gone, she rushed
out of the room, down the corridor, and into Robin’s room.
He roused her father, and, armed with revolvers, they went
to Lilian’s room and not without some reluctance and appre¬
hension looked under the bed and searched everywhere.

To their relief there was no sign of the thing Lilian claimed
to have seen.

The Wyndhams were now in a very unsettled and perplexed
state. They did not know what to do—stay or leave.

Another ghostly happening furnished them with an answer.
They were sitting in the hall shortly before supper one even¬
ing, tvhen there were screams from the servants' quarters and
presently through the hall rushed the spectral form of a short
man, his face convulsed with terror. Close on his heels came
the figure of a tall man holding what looked like a meat
chopper or axe in one hand. A gruesome light surrounded
both figures. They passed through the wall of the room oppo¬
site their entrance.

Their exit was succeeded by the entrance in a body of the
servants, who very excitedly informed Mrs. Wyndham that
they could not stay another day in the house.

As the house could not be managed without servants, and it

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

was very doubtful if new ones would remain long, the Wynd-
hams were obliged to sacrifice money and leave.

The estate agents who had obtained the house for them now
admitted that they were not surprised at their departure, as
no tenants had remained in it for long. According to a tradi¬
tional local story, about a hundred years ago a young brother
had murdered his elder brother in the house in order to in¬
herit a fortune, and had thrown the body into the lake.

It was this diabolical murder that was supposed to furnish
an explanation for the haunting of The Beeches by the phan¬
toms of the two brothers; but for an explanation of the other
ghastly happenings one would have to look much further back,
probably to black magical rites and acts practised on the site
of The Beeches estate in very remote days.

84

THE PHANTOM CLOCK. OF PORTMAN SQUARE

The idea that hauntings are invariably due to troubled and
unhappy spirits of the dead ever seeking the prayers and con¬
solations of the living is, of course, as any genuine psychical
researcher knows, entirely erroneous. In many cases of haunt-
ings, perhaps even in the majority, the nature of the pheno¬
mena suggests they are due to some species of spirit that has
never inhabited a human body, and one which, far from pin¬
ing for the society of mankind, desires nothing better than to
be left rigorously alone.

Such spirits are, as a rule, entirely antagonistic to all human
beings. An example of this is the haunting of a house in Upper
Gloucester Place, Portman Square, in the heart of London.

A few years prior to World War I the house, which had
stood empty for some time, was taken by a Mr. and Mrs.
Strawn. One night Mrs. Strawn could not, try as she would,
go to sleep. She was reviewing in her mind, probably for the
umpteenth time, the incidents of the day, and planning and
arranging certain little jobs for the morrow, when she suddenly
became conscious of an extraordinary stillness. It seemed
forced and unnatural, the prelude, in fact, to something which
her instinct told her would be alarmingly unpleasant.

A few minutes later, when her suspense had become well
nigh unbearable, the hush was abruptly broken by the sonor¬
ous striking of a grandfather clock, the sounds apparently
coming from the landing close to their bedroom door. But
the Strawns had no such clock in their possession.

Although almost fainting with fright, Mrs. Strawn felt con¬
strained to count the strokes. One, two, three, on and on it
went till it struck twelve, and then, to Mrs. Strawn's astonish¬
ment, it struck once more. Thirteen. After that there was a
short interval, and then once again the clock commenced

85

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

striking, and this time very slowly and with a curiously men¬
acing intonation it struck, five.

There then followed a heavy silence, which was eventually
broken by Mr. Strawn whispering, ‘Did you hear that, my
dear? I wonder what it means.’

They were of course unable to say then, but Mrs. Strawn
knew soon enough, for exactly five days later her husband
met with a fatal accident while roller-skating at a rink in
London.

After such an experience one might have thought that the
first thing the widow would do would be to vacate the house,
but for some strange reason she stayed; and for several years
she was in no way disturbed. Then, suddenly, all kinds of
queer noises, such as knockings on the walls and doors, and
crashes, as of cartloads of crockery being dashed on the floor
from a great height, were heard in the house. The noises,
commencing as a rule at about midnight and lasting till two
o’clock, continued night after night.

Mrs. Strawn, acting upon the advice of a friend, called in
a medium, who, after staying in the house only a few minutes,
took her departure, declaring she had seen and conversed with
the spirit of a former occupant, and that there would be no
more disturbances in consequence.

The disturbances continuing, however, Mrs. Strawn called
in another medium. But the result was the same, and although
the spirit who was responsible (a different spirit this time, by
the way) was again said to be laid, there was no abatement of
the trouble.

It was not until these futile attempts at exorcism had taken
place that Mrs. Strawn thought of communicating with me.
I then went to see her, and after hearing her story of the clock
and other phenomena she had experienced, I told her that, in
my opinion, the influence at work there emanated from some
spirit that wanted her out of the house—a spirit that was
inimical, if not actually evil. I also told her that it was, in
all probability, an elemental—elementals being quite distinct
and apart from the earth-bound spirits of the dead.

86

THE PHANTOM CLOCK OF PORTMAN SQUARE

Even as I spoke, a feeling that it would be dangerous for
her to remain in the house any longer came over me so strongly
that I urged her to leave the place without delay.

I did not see her after that for several weeks, and then, quite
by chance, I found myself sitting next to her at a theatre
performance.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘have you left the house?’

'No,' she replied. ‘Somehow I couldn’t tear myself away,
and, do you know, I heard that phantom clock again last night.
It struck thirteen first of all, just as before, and then very
slowly it struck three. I have a relative who is very ill, and I
cannot help feeling that it predicts death. What do you think?'

I could not say what I thought, for while she was telling
me of the incident I had a strong presentiment that the ghostly
clock had foretold her own death. I again urged her to leave
the house at once.

Two days later—that is to say, on the morning of the third
day after hearing the phantom clock striking—she was killed
in a taxi-cab collision in Portman Square. The piece of glass
that was the instrument of her death (it severed the jugular
vein, and she died in exactly three minutes from the time she
was struck) came from the window that was farthest from her,
while the woman, an intimate friend, who was with her and
sat next to the window was untouched, as also was a small
dog that had sat on Mrs. Strawn’s lap.

I heard nothing more of No.-Upper Gloucester Place

for about a year. I then met a man at a friend's house one
afternoon, who, happening to hear me tell a friend about
Mrs. Strawn and the phantom clock, remarked, ‘Oh, I know
that house well. It has been haunted, so I have heard, for a
very long time now and apparently by a variety of ghosts, as
your clock ghost is quite new to me.’ He then told us the
following story.

’About thirty years ago an uncle of mine, hearing that the
house was to be let at a very small rental applied for it to the
agent.

' "I think I ought to tell you," the agent observed, after

87

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

my uncle had announced his desire to take it, “that the house
bears a reputation for being haunted. Indeed, that is why we
are offering it at such a low figure.”

* “Oh, that won’t worry me,” my uncle laughed, “for I don’t
believe in ghosts. They are all bunkum. But, tell me, has the
house a history? I mean, has anything happened there, for
although I don’t care two raps about ghosts, I do not altogether
relish the idea of living in a house where a notorious murder
has been committed.”

‘The agent smiled. “You can make your mind quite easy
on that point," he said, “there has been no murder in it and,
as far as I am aware, not even a suicide, though what may
have happened on the site of the house before it was built I
cannot, of course, say. The haunting is, I understand, confined
to one room, the large back bedroom on the second floor, and
I should advise you to convert it into a store-room.”

‘My uncle laughed again. "Why, what nonsense!’ he ex¬
claimed. "I will sleep in it myself.”

‘Finally my uncle took the house and within a few days
moved into it. He was absolutely well at the time. Three
months later he called to see me one morning, and I was ap¬
palled at the change in him. He must have lost a stone in
weight, and, instead of having a healthy complexion, he had
no colour at all; his face was all white and drawn and haggard.
He had in fact altered to such an extent that 1 hardly knew
him.

1 “Why, Undel” I exclaimed, after I had helped him off
with his coat and handed him one of the brand of cigars I kept
especially for him, “how ill you look! What's wrong with you?”

’ “Everything," my uncle groaned. "You won’t believe me
perhaps when I tell you, my boy, but I’m lost, lost body and
soul. You can’t conceive a more hideous fate.”

‘He spoke so despairingly that I looked at him in amaze¬
ment. Was it possible, I wondered, that he had become de¬
ranged since last I saw him?

* "No," he replied, interpreting my thoughts, “I'm not mad.
Jack. I wish I were. I'm horribly sane. You haven't seen me

88

THE PHANTOM CLOCK OF PORTMAN SQUARE

since I took up my house in Upper Gloucester Place, have
you?” I shook my head.

* "I thought not," he went on. “Well, you may recollect my
telling you that the agent said the house was haunted and
strongly advised me not to sleep in a certain room. Well, like
the fool I was, I only laughed at him and slept in the room
he warned me against. For exactly a week nothing happened,
and then one night I had an experience so hideous that I have
never been able to dismiss it from my mind—not for a day, or
an hour, or even a minute. Listen.

* "Shortly after I got into bed I fell asleep and had the most
singular dream. I thought, as I was lying there in bed, that the
door of my room suddenly opened and a man in evening
clothes, with a very white face, looked in at me and whispered,
‘Come.’ Well, I got up. Frightened though I was, for there was
something about the man that was undoubtedly terrifying, I
nevertheless felt constrained to obey, and followed him.

* “Down the staircase he led me to the cellar under the pave¬
ment, where, to my astonishment, I saw a flight of stone steps
going right down, down into, apparently, the bowels of the
earth. I shrank back in horror, whereupon my guide turned
round and once again whispered, ‘Come,’ and, as before, I was
compelled to follow.

* “He took me down countless steps till we finally arrived
at a stone passage, along which we went till we suddenly found
ourselves in a vast vaulted chamber. The centre of the floor
was occupied by a long table, at which were seated a number
of men and women, all with faces the same startling white as
my guide.

* “On my entrance a man sitting at the end of the table
nearest the passage looked round and motioned to me to be
seated, and though I would have given anything to retreat, I
again found it impossible to do other than obey.

’ “When I had taken my place near him, I looked round at
the company, who were conversing together in semi-whispers,
and was at once struck by the mingled expression of furtive
fear and utter hopelessness in their faces. They seemed to be

89

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

in a constant state of terror, of terror at each other, at their
surroundings, and over and above all, at the form seated at
the end of the table, that 1 had at first taken to be a man but
which now seemed to me to be a strange and horrid cross be¬
tween a human being and some particularly grotesque kind
of animal.

* “The horror with which the whole scene inspired me at
length became so unbearable that, unable to endure it any
longer, I sprang up, and was on the point of rushing out of the
chamber when a woman seated at my side caught hold of me
and, with the most surprising strength, pulled me back.

' “ ‘It’s no use,' she laughed, *you can’t get away. We are all
of us here for Eternity/

* “For the love of God, let me go,” I cried, turning to the
thing seated at the end of the table. "I haven't done anything/'

* “ ‘Oh, yes, you have,’ was the reply, uttered in a strangely
far away and hollow voice. 'You have slept in the room you
knew we haunted, and everyone who sleeps in that room is
bound to come here sooner or later. Mr. Robert Percival slept
there, and he is here now, so are Miss Sarah Hackett, Mrs.
Emma Freeman, Colonel William Sacherell, and others.

'" ‘They all slept in that room and were drawn here by our
atmosphere, which in a similar fashion drew you. We will let
you go now, however, on one condition, and that is you promise
us you will return here some time or other on June 21/

‘ “Well," my uncle said with a groan, “I promised, and no
sooner had I done so than everything became a blank, and I
awoke to find myself in bed.”

* “It was nothing more than a dream. Unde,' I reassured
him.

* “Wait,” my uncle said. “It had all been so hideously vivid
that I made enquiries and finally elicited the fact that a Mrs.
Emma Freeman, a Miss Sarah Racket and a Colonel Sacherell
had actually lived in this house and died there. So you see I
am lost. I have promised those fiends that I will return to them
on June 21, and if I don't go of my own accord they will find
a means of making me.”

9°

THE PHANTOM CLOCK OF PORTMAN SQUARE

'1 tried to laugh him out of it, but it was of no use, and finally
I suggested he should leave the house and go abroad for a
change. He wouldn’t agree, however. The house seemed to
have some extraordinary fascination for him—I have subse¬
quently discovered it has for everyone who once stays there—
and he remained.

‘I called to see him on the afternoon of June 21. He was
apparently well then, though terribly nervous and restless.
When 1 called again the following morning he was dead. He
had died, so the doctor said, in his sleep, from heart failure/

9 1

HORROR IN SKYE

If you are anxious to contact people who are gifted with second
sight and are born mediums, you should go to the Isle of Skye.
There you may still find people who are genuinely clairvoyant
and dairaudient.

The following is a true story of a strange happening in a
Skye cottage.

A lady, who for convenience sake I will call Mrs. Grant,
was staying for a time in Skye. She was much annoyed by hear¬
ing from Elspeth, one of her servants, that a shepherd had
been telling her about a ghost he had seen in a cottage on the
bank of the river Rhundunan. Mrs. Grant sent for the shep¬
herd and rebuked him for frightening her maid.

‘Indeed, ma’am. I am very sorry that you should be vexed
with me,' he said, ‘but were it to cost me my situation, I cannot
sleep in that cottage after what I have seen there.’

‘And what have you seen?’ Mrs. Grant asked, greatly im¬
pressed by the serious manner of the shepherd,

'You may laugh,’ he said, ‘at what I am about to tell you,
but it is absolutely true. During the last three nights I have
been roused from my sleep by a queer noise in the room, and on
looking around me 1 have seen the figure of Mary, one of your
maids, all dripping wet, standing by my bedside. She has had
her handkerchief tied round her head, and her arms folded
over her breast. After gazing at me for a few moments, she has
kissed me on the forehead and then glided across the room
and stood for a few moments by the door. While I have
been looking at her, she has suddenly and unaccountably
vanished.’

‘She did not harm you in any way?’ Mrs. Grant said.

The shepherd shook his head. ‘No, ma’am, but she scared
me.*

Mrs. Grant tried to persuade him that he had either been

92

HORROR IN SKYE

dreaming or someone had played a trick on him, but he main¬
tained that what he had seen was supernatural.

Soon after Mrs. Grant had this conversation with the shep¬
herd, she was with Mary getting linen out of a cupboard in
Mary's room, when there was a sudden report as if a firearm
had gone off in the cupboard.

'Oh, ma’am,' Mary exclaimed in horrified tones, ‘there will
be grave-clothes taken from that chest before this week is over.’

Mrs. Grant laughed at her.

The next day Mrs. Grant sent Mary with a message to Por¬
tree, which was a good distance from her house. It rained in¬
cessantly during Mary’s absence, and the river she had to cross,
which flowed at the foot of the park near Mrs. Grant's house,
was very swollen.

As Mary was a very long time away, Mrs. Grant grew ex¬
tremely anxious about her, and sent several people to search
for her. Mary’s body was found in the river. In attempting to
cross the river at the ford she had missed her footing and had
been drowned. What seemed so strange was that her arms
were folded across her breast, and she had bound her head
round with a handkerchief, just as the shepherd said he had
seen her appear on three successive nights in his room.

The pistol report she and Mrs. Grant had heard in the linen
cupboard in her room had been a portent of her own death.

93

GHOSTS AND MURDER

Although ghosts, in spite of popular belief, do not as a rule
appear with any definite purpose, there are plenty of well-
authenticated cases in which they have played a very material
part in the detection and prevention of crime.

One of the best known cases of this kind is that of the
Cawood Castle murder. The story of this crime is as follows:

About noon one Tuesday in April, many years ago, a man
named Thomas Lofthouse went into a field near Cawood
Castle to water some quickwood. He had used one pail of water
and was hurrying off to get another, when he suddenly saw,
walking a few paces ahead of him, a young woman whom he
at once recognized as his wife's sister. Very much astonished,
as the woman's husband, William Barwick, had given him to
understand she had left home on a visit the previous after¬
noon, he quickened his steps to overtake her, but no matter
how fast he went, she kept the same distance ahead of him,
although she apparently never altered her pace.

They continued in this fashion, he exerting himself to the
utmost and she moving along calmly and without effort, till
they came to the banks of a dreary-looking pond, where she
sat down and began to dangle something white in the water.
The object appeared misty and obscure, but his instinct led
him to believe it was a baby. Mrs. Barwick had a child a few
months old.

Lofthouse was about to advance to speak to her and ask what
she was doing there, when she unexpectedly vanished, and he
found himself merely staring into space.

Convinced now that what he had seen was a ghost, and feel¬
ing very alarmed in consequence, he hurried off and at once
sought William Barwick.

‘William,’ he said, ‘what has happened to your wife and
child? I saw them both a few minutes ago by the side of the

94

GHOSTS AND MURDER

pond near the castle, and it’s my belief that they have met with
foul play, and you know all about it I *

Barwick turned as white as a sheet and, looking horribly
guilty, mumbled out something to the effect that as far as he
knew his wife and child were still away on a visit.

Convinced from the man’s demeanour that he was lying,
Lofthouse now went to the authorities, who promptly had the
pond dragged, with the result that the bodies of Mrs. Barwick
and her child were found there.

Barwick was arrested and, on being charged with their
murder, he confessed to having taken them unawares while
out walking with them the previous evening, and to having
thrown them both into the pond.

It is satisfactory to note that he was very quickly executed,
but it is extremely doubtful whether the deed would ever
have been brought home to him had it not been for the
ghosts.

Another remarkable instance of ghostly intervention in con¬
nection with crime is that relating to the Guilsborough murder
of 1764. Guilsborough is an ancient village in Northampton¬
shire about midway between Northampton and Market Har-
borough.

At the beginning of 1764 one of the most familiar figures
in the neighbourhood was an old pedlar known as ‘Scottie’.
For many years he had visited the village regularly at intervals
of about six or seven weeks, and when, after his last visit, about
February or March, several months passed without his again
being seen, people began to wonder what had become of him.
Then an incident of a very startling nature occurred, which
threw a sinister light on the mystery.

A boy named Seamark was overheard by the village school¬
mistress to say to a play-fellow with whom he had had a quarrel
that he would serve him as his father had served Scottie.

Her suspicions being aroused, the schoolmistress demanded
of young Seamark what he meant, and on his refusing to ex¬
plain, she shut him up in a cupboard and called in several of
the leading lights in the village. They cross-examined the boy.

95

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

and eventually succeeded in extracting from him the following
information.

It seems that on the evening of the day Scottie was last seen
in the neighbourhood he had called, on leaving Guilsborough,
at the Seamarks’ house, which lay in a very lonely valley, just
outside the village. Seamark had with him at the time two
friends, John Croxford and William Butlin—both of whom
bore a bad reputation—and on ascertaining that Scottie had
done a very good day’s business, the three men determined to
put him out of the way. Plying the unfortunate pedlar with
liquor till he was more than half drunk, they suddenly threw
him on the ground and murdered him in the most barbarous
fashion, subsequendy cutting up the body and burning it in
a brick oven.

This was the gist of young Seamark's story, and he further¬
more declared that he and his brother had witnessed the entire
transaction from a hole in the floor overhead, but were far too
terrified to do anything.

On learning all this, certain of the local authorities at once
went to the Seamarks’ house, and, taxing Mrs. Seamark with
a knowledge of the crime, received from her a full corrobora¬
tion of everything the boy had said. As a result, Croxford,
Butlin and Seamark were arrested, tried, and eventually
hanged, all three, however, protesting to the last that they were
innocent.

One evening shortly after the execution of these men, the
chaplain of the Northampton gaol, where they had been con¬
fined, was sitting in his study, wondering if after all the trio
had actually murdered Scottie. Not a few people in Guils¬
borough believed that the story of the murder was trumped
up by Mrs. Seamark, who was known to have been not on the
best of terms with her husband, and that circumstance,
coupled with the fact that none of the trio had confessed, filled
the chaplain with a certain amount of doubt as to their
guilt.

He was leaning back in his chair, still thinking of the
matter, when he suddenly felt he was no longer alone tn the

96

GHOSTS AND MURDER

room and, raising his eyes, saw to his amazement someone
standing facing him on the opposite side of the table.

The light from the candles having for some inexplicable
reason sunk very low, he could not at first distinguish who the
stranger was, but on leaning forward and scrutinizing him,
he saw with a thrill of horror that it was Croxford, the man
whose execution he had attended some twenty-four hours pre¬
viously. The chaplain tried to say something, but his terror
was so great that his tongue clave to the roof of his palate and
he could not articulate a syllable. He felt on the verge of faint¬
ing, when his visitor suddenly began to speak.

‘I am John Croxford,’ he announced, ‘and I have come to
tell you, so that you can afterwards inform the world, that I
and my two companions, Butlin and Seamark, were alone
responsible for the death of the pedlar. We murdered him
exactly in the manner described by Mrs. Seamark and the boy,
and if you desire a proof that it is in very truth the spirit of
John Croxford that is now speaking, and that you are not
dreaming, go to the field exactly behind the Seamarks' house
and dig up the ground immediately behind the pump. There
you will find a box, and in it the ring I took from Scottie’s
body. You can identify it because it bears this inscription,
"Hanged he’ll be who steals me”, and never did a warning
come truer.'

With these words he stepped back and seemed to amal¬
gamate with the gloom, eventually becoming absorbed com¬
pletely by it. The candles then suddenly burned again
brightly, and nothing out of the ordinary was to be seen.

The chaplain, much mystified and strangely impressed,
went on the morrow to the field at the back of the Seamarks’
house, and, digging in the spot indicated, found there a box
and in it the ring described.

An extraordinary case of what may be termed psychic inter¬
vention to prevent crime occurred at the beginning of the
last century. A Mr. Thornton, of Fulham, dreamed one night
he was in the garden at the back of his house, waiting for some¬
thing, he did not know what, to happen. After a while he

a

97

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

heard voices, and in the moonlit space opposite him there
appeared two people, his gardener and the kitchenmaid. They
appeared to be engaged in earnest conversation, when sud¬
denly the gardener, seizing the girl round the neck, threw her
down and began to murder her.

Overwhelmed with horror, Mr. Thom ton was endeavour¬
ing to go to her rescue when he awoke, bathed in sweat. He
was so upset by the vision that it was some time before he
could settle down again to sleep, and when at length he did
doze off he dreamed exactly the same dream as before, waking
up just as the climax was reached.

This time, feeling more than ever disturbed, he got up and,
lighting a lamp, prepared to visit the spot where, in two
successive dreams, he had witnessed the tragedy.

On reaching the kitchen, through which he had to pass, he
saw to his surprise the kitchenmaid, dressed exactly as she
had been in his dream, in a hat and cloak, as if prepared for a
journey. He asked her why she was up and in her outdoor
clothes at such an early hour, for it was not much after three
o'clock, and, much abashed, she replied that she was about to
meet Mark, the gardener, who was waiting for her at the
garden gate with a horse and trap to drive her to the neigh¬
bouring village, where they were to get married.

Mr. Thornton told her he had no objection to her marrying
the gardener, but he did not like her leaving the premises in
so stealthy a fashion, and he bade her wait and not do anything
rash till he had first of all interviewed her intended spouse.

He then hurried down the garden path as far as the gate,
but could see no sign of any horse or trap or man, and he was
about to return to the house when he fancied he heard some¬
one digging. Following the direction of the sound, he drew up
under cover of some bushes and saw the gardener hard at work,
turning up the soil with feverish haste.

Feeling absolutely certain now that his dreams were in¬
tended to warn him that a horrible crime was about to be
perpetrated, Mr. Thornton suddenly sprang out on the gar¬
dener and caught him by the shoulder. The man started

9 8

GHOSTS AND MURDER

violently and, seeing who his assailant was, promptly fainted.

We are not told whether the marriage ever came off, but
we presume the gardener did not remain long in Mr. Thorn¬
ton’s service, and that the girl at least was appraised of what
had taken place.

Ghosts are not credited as a rule with any liking for courts
of law, at any rate whilst proceedings are in progress, but
according to T. Charley, a writer on supernatural lore during
the last century, there is at least one instance of a ghost having
put in an appearance at the assizes.

Charley states that a man was once placed on trial in an
English court charged with murder, but so slight was the evi¬
dence against him that it was soon a foregone conclusion that
he would be acquitted.

When the court had, as they thought, examined the last of
the witnesses and were about to prepare for their recommenda¬
tion of ‘Not Guilty’, the prisoner suddenly electrified every¬
one by leaning forward and pointing wildly to the apparently
empty witness-box.

‘My lord,’ he exclaimed, ’it's not fair; it’s not according
to law. He’s not a legal witness.’

The judge was about to rebuke him, when an idea seemed
suddenly to flash across his mind, and he said in those gentle
tones which none could assume at times better than he:

‘Why is he not a legal witness? I believe the court will allow
his evidence to be quite good, when he begins to give it.’

The prisoner, however, shook his head and, trembling
violently all over, cried: ‘No, no, it cannot, it must not be.
No man can be allowed to be a witness in his own case. He is
a party, my lord—he cannot stand where he is.’

Everyone present was now becoming intensely interested,
though greatly perplexed as to what it all meant.

’You are mistaken,' the judge replied calmly. ‘Every witness
who comes here has a perfect right to speak, ft is for us to
determine the legality of his evidence when he gives it.’

Upon hearing this the prisoner was so overcome that for
some seconds he could not utter a sound. He then exclaimed

99

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

in a voice of the greatest agony: ‘My lord, my lord, if you allow
him to speak, I am a dead man 1 1 And, repeating over and over
again the words ‘a dead man', he swayed, and would have fallen
had not a chair been given to him.

The judge then told the prisoner that he believed a guilty
conscience was tormenting him, and begged him to say what
it was he had on his mind. The prisoner hesitated at first but,
after appearing to undergo the most terrible struggle with
himself, finally confessed he was guilty of the crime charged
to him. He declared that he now confessed and told the truth
for no other reason than that he was afraid to do otherwise in
the presence of the man he had killed. He had seen him, he said,
enter the court and with noiseless steps proceed to the witness-
box, where he was still standing, pointing to the ghastly wound
in his throat that caused his death.

Charley states that although no one saving the prisoner saw
the ghost, by far the greater number of those present believed
it to be actually there, and stoutly refused to accept the theory
that the accused was merely the victim of an hallucination.
Anyway, his confession was accepted, and he was forthwith
found guilty and duly executed.

It is not, however, invariably the case, as the following will
show, that the unknown powers are successful in their endeav¬
ours to frustrate the designs of those who contemplate crime.

Some years ago there lived at Portlaw, a small village nine
or ten miles from Waterford, an innkeeper called Adam
Rogers. One night Rogers dreamed he was standing in a very
barren and deserted spot on a mountainside. It was daylight,
but although the sun was shining very brightly, it did not
seem in any way to diminish the awful feeling of loneliness
and depression with which the place inspired him. Everything
about it, the colouring, conformation, and even the soil, sug¬
gested something hideously evil, while the very atmosphere
was impregnated with a sense of impending tragedy.

While he was standing still and taking all this in, voices
suddenly fell on his ears and he became aware of two men
coming along, side by side, towards him. The one was very

too

GHOSTS AND MURDER

tall, with broad shoulders and a curious, slouching kind of
walk. He had a swarthy complexion and strongly marked
features, with something about them that was decidedly
sinister and alarming.

His companion, on the other hand, who seemed to belong
to a superior class, was a puny little man with a singularly mild
and benevolent countenance.

Neither of them apparently noticed Rogers, but continued
talking with much animation till they arrived at a ditch. Here
they paused, and the little man was in the act of stepping
across the ditch when his companion suddenly picked up a
big stone and struck him violently on the head with it.

Rogers tried to cry out and rush to the rescue, but he found
himself unable to make a sound or move a limb, and in this
state he was compelled to witness a most horrible and cruel
crime, which was enacted with the most extraordinary vivid¬
ness. He awoke only on its completion, and when the murderer
was rising from his knees with a dreadful grin of satisfaction.

The dream impressed Rogers so much that he narrated it
to his wife, and they were still discussing it when the door
of the inn opened and two men entered. To Rogers’ dismay
he saw at once that these two strangers were absolutely identi¬
cal with the two men who had figured in his dream.

They asked for luncheon, and appeared to be on the best of
terms; but Rogers, observing them closely, was now even more
convinced than he had been in his dream that a great social
gulf lay between them.

The big, burly, sinister-looking man, whose name was Caul¬
field, was rough and uncouth, while the smaller of the two,
whom his companion addressed as Mr. Micky, had both the
speech and manners of a gentleman.

Rogers was so greatly perturbed that, when Mr. Micky came
into the parlour to pay the bill, he tried to persuade him to
stay the night there and let Caulfield continue his journey
alone. Instead, however, of telling Mr. Micky why he was so
anxious on his behalf, Rogers, for fear of being laughed at,
made no mention of his dream at all and merely succeeded in

ioi

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

mystifying his visitor, who failed to see any rhyme or reason
in his endeavours to detain him.

The strangely assorted pair went off together, and that very
night the news reached Rogers that the body of a man, horribly
mutilated, had been found on the mountainside a few miles
from Portlaw. Full of the gravest apprehension, Rogers, accom¬
panied by his wife, went to view the body, and they both
identified it at once as that of Mr. Micky. They then told the
authorities of the visit of Mr. Micky and Caulfield to their
inn, expressing it as their opinion that Caulfield was the
murderer. In consequence, Caulfield was arrested at Water¬
ford just as he was about to embark for Newfoundland, and,
bloodstains being found on his clothes, he was formally
charged with the murder of Mr. Micky.

At the trial Rogers not only proved that Micky was last seen
in company with Caulfield but described every article of dress
the two men had been wearing on the day of the murder with
such exactness that the accused, who had hitherto maintained
an air of the utmost indifference, was at last roused out of his
lethargy and, turning to Rogers, cried excitedly:

‘How is that you, an innkeeper, used to all kinds and con¬
ditions of people visiting you, should have paid such particular
attention to what two more or less ordinary customers wore
on that particular day? Does it not strike you and everyone
else here that it is most extraordinary?'

‘Maybe,’ Rogers replied, 'but I had a particular reason,’
and he then described his dream. During Rogers’ recital the
prisoner remained absolutely silent and in an apparently
dazed condition, in which he continued whilst his namesake.
Sir George Caulfield, who at that time was Lord Chief Justice
of the King's Bench in Ireland, pronounced sentence of death.

Before his execution, however, Caulfield admitted that he
was guilty, and declared that every detail in the dream which
Rogers bad narrated in court was absolutely true. He added
that as soon as he set eyes on Rogers he felt, somehow, that
they had met before, and that Rogers would, in some remark¬
able manner, play a fateful part in his destiny.

102

A HAUNTED HAMPSTEAD HOUSE

Had 1 not known a friend of an intimate friend of the senior
partner of a firm of estate agents in Haverstock Hill, I feel

pretty certain I could never have obtained the keys of No.-

Church Walk, Hampstead, for the purpose of conducting there
a midnight vigil.

As it was I had some difficulty since, according to the rules
of the firm, the keys of all the houses on their list had to be
returned to the office before it was closed for the night, and I,
of course, wanted to keep them overnight, in order to watch
for the ghost which was reputed to haunt the place.

I had heard, on pretty reliable evidence, that the house in
question was one of the worst haunted houses in London. I
chose a night in September for my investigation because, in
my experience, ghostly demonstrations occur more often in
this month than in any other. I had no idea what form the
manifestations took; whether they were merely auditory, or
visual, or both. All I knew about them was that they were
reputed to be most alarming.

I arrived there, alone, about eleven o'clock. In most empty
and long-deserted houses there is a feeling of loneliness; and
certainly in this house there was a feeling of intense loneliness.
I was conscious of it directly I crossed the threshold—and I
was conscious also of a sensation of acute depression. That
thoughts and emotions poignant enough to permeate the
atmosphere linger, to influence and affect certain super-sen¬
sitive minds is, I think, now recognized by most serious
students of psychical search.

‘How someone must have suffered 1' was my first thought
on entering, and hardly had I conceived it, when from close
beside me came a curious sound, half a sigh and half a shudder.

With the aid of my torch I looked sharply round. No one
was there.

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

I examined the rooms on the ground floor and basement,
and everywhere I went I had the uncomfortable feeling of
being followed and closely watched.

It was when I had finished examining the kitchen and was
in the hall that I first heard footsteps—distinct pattering foot¬
steps, that at once conjured up mental visions of a child. They
came down the stairs towards me, halted and then abruptly
retreated, as if panicked.

As I went up the stairs after them I again heard that queer
shuddering sigh, this time just in front of me.

Having gone into all the rooms, I decided to hold my vigil
on the staircase leading from the top landing to the floor
immediately beneath it, A staircase is often the most haunted
place in a house, and I instinctively felt it was so in this house.
Again and again as I sat there in the dark, listening and
watching, I heard the stairs below me creak, as if someone
was creeping very stealthily and surreptitiously up them; and
several times I heard that harrowing halbshudder, half-sigh;
but I saw nothing.

About three o'clock, tired of sitting on the hard stairs for
so long, I got up and was crossing the landing beneath when
I bumped into someone or something,

1 flashed my torch. No one, nothing was to be seen, but as
I stood there staring around my eyes became focused on the
handle of a door facing me. It was the door of a room I had
been into, and I remembered closing it after I left it. It was
still closed, but the handle was turning, and presently the
door very slowly commenced opening, , . ,

It took a very great effort on my part to go to the door,
throw it wide open and look into the room. No one was there,
but as my light played over the bare boards and walls I very
distinctly heard a door on the other side of the landing gently
open and as gently close.

Someone or something was undoubtedly moving about.
Startled by this realization, I let my torch fall. As I was
stooping to pick it up it was thrust into my hand I
That such an apparently considerate and, on the face of it.

io 4

A HAUNTED HAMPSTEAD HOUSE

ordinary act should have produced a paralysing effect on me
may seem to some people extraordinary, but I can only say it
did, and that for some moments I was utterly demoralized.

When eventually I recovered sufficiently to switch on my
light, to my relief I saw nothing, I was seemingly alone, and
yet I had the very uncomfortable feeling that a presence of
none too pleasant a nature was standing dose beside me.

I spent what remained of the night on the staircase leading
from the first storey to the ground floor.

The darkness of the night had for some time given way to
the grey early morning when the front door opened and a red-
haired woman, carrying a carpet bag in one hand, entered, I
wasn't sorry to see that charwoman. She made me realize that
the horrors of the night were at last over.

It was futile to remain there any longer, so I came away,
‘And you actually saw nothing?' my friend remarked when
I narrated my experience to him.

'Nothing/ I replied, ‘and I stayed there till the charwoman
or caretaker arrived in the morning/

'Char or caretaker I' he said, with growing interest. ‘What
was she like?'

I told him.

'Why, my good man/ was his answer. ‘Then you did see
something after all. That was the ghost 1 1

He went on to tell me that, according to rumour, many years
before a red-haired woman had murdered and dismembered a
a child in the house and carried away the remains in a carpet

BAG.

105

THE HAUNTED QUARRY

I had never been in Galway till I went on a visit to my friends
the Dillons. They were having a house warming, having only
just come to the house, Ballybrig Castle. The castle was really
a castellated house, quite new. Indeed, the Dillons were the
first occupants.

It was built on virgin soil, no other house nearer to it than
a mile. Fronting it was a newly fashioned terrace lawn, and
beyond that a rugged field with sparse trees, a hillock, and a
quarry. In the rear of the house was a yard enclosed with high
walls, and a pool, said to be fathomless.

The Dillon family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Dillon, three
girls, Nora, Sally and Deirdre, and two sons, Daniel, an archi¬
tect, and Christopher, a sailor in the Royal Navy. He was home
on leave.

I had the feeling that there was something very queer about
the house the first night I was in it. Something I had never
experienced before, too subtly unusual to explain.

Tired after a long journey I went to bed earlier than usual,
and soon fell asleep. Something woke me sharply, and I had
a feeling that something startling was about to happen. The
window magnetized me. I got up and went to it. The night
was fine, and very still; every object in the landscape stood
out very clearly. A big dark Galway hare scurried across the
ground and a night bird hooted dismally.

Looking in the direction of the quarry I saw a misty shape
emerge from it, and come slowly towards the house. It was
tall, and gave me the impression of something human in form
but with unusually long spidery arms and legs, and a rotund
head—something not unlike a giant Dutch doll. It came strid¬
ing along in the moonlight, its arms hanging loosely by its side.

Fascinated I watched it drawing nearer and nearer, till it
reached the house, when it swerved, swung round and strode

106

THE HAUNTED QUARRY

in the direction of the yard and stabling. The house dogs
whined and growled for a few seconds, and were then silent.
I sensed that they were very frightened.

I could not drag myself away from the window for some
time. Eventually I released myself from the magnetic chain
that bound me, and went back to bed.

I did not say anything about my experience to the Dillons.

The following morning Nora came down to breakfast look¬
ing pale and as if she had not had a good night. She then told
us that she had had a very jarring experience. It was similar
to mine.

Deirdre was the next to have a queer experience. She was
on the lawn throwing a ball to Pickle, one of the dogs. She
threw it further than she intended, and it went into a bush.
She told Pickle to go after it, but on getting near the bush he
stopped, his hair bristled, and he whined and growled.

Deirdre looked behind the bush. There was a whizzing
sound, the ball was thrown back over the bush, but she could
not see who or what threw it. It left her somewhat disturbingly
thrilled.

Then Sally, while standing on the hillock one morning felt
a hand clutch hold of her ankle and deliberately try to trip
her. She screamed and the hand let her go. It was a big bony
hand with long fingers.

Without daring to look around her she ran to the house.

The boys now regarded the haunting seriously. Daniel had
a friend, Herbert Ranger, who was a member of a psychical
research society, and he invited him to the castle.

Ranger came and listened very attentively to the accounts
of the haunting, including mine.

‘I don't know what I can do,’ he said. 1 am just a researcher
and more or less a sceptic. 1 can't exclude the possibility of it
being a case of nerves and imagination with Nora. She saw
what she thinks is a ghost. Fear is infectious, and Sally and
Deirdre and you, Mr. O'Donnell, fancy you saw a ghost too.'

'It was no fancy/ Sally said. ‘Had I not screamed I should
have fallen. Mr. O'Donnell is not neurotic. He saw the ghost.’

107

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Ranger smiled. 'He thought he did. 1 will have a look at
the quarry, as it is from there your ghost apparently comes.’

After supper he sat talking till after eleven, and then set off
alone to the quarry.

'I hope to goodness he will see the ghost,’ Sally said, ‘and
be damned well scared.’

’It will take a lot to scare Herbert,’ Daniel laughed. ‘He is
very tough.’

‘Just the sort to get scared,’ Christopher said. ‘I know the
type. Cocksure and supercillious.’

We all waited anxiously for Ranger’s return. At last he
came.

'Did you see anything?’ we cried,

‘I saw something,’ he said.

'What?'

'I imagine it is what Tylor,* the authority on nature spirits,
calls an elemental. He believes that everything has a spirit—
trees, stones, rocks; and they live harnessed to the things to
which they are so closely allied till something happens to
detach them. In this case it was the making of the quarry.
When that was effected a nature spirit became loose and
wandered abroad. Such nature spirits are harmless, or the
reverse. In this case it is the reverse, and I strongly advise you
to have the quarry filled in, or sell your house.

'To fill it in would be a hard job,’ Christopher said.

'I don't think so,’ Daniel said. 'The Galway Corporation
might be glad to have an additional place to pitch their rub¬
bish. I’ll get in touch with them.’

He did, and the quarry was gradually filled in.

When the filling was completed—the quarry was not so very
deep—the haunting of Ballybrig Castle ceased.

•Prof. Tylor was a well-known nineteenth century animbt.

108

THE SPECTRES OF THE GABLES

From time to time I have come in contact with what I have
believed to be entities from another world* One such occasion
happened when I was living in a village in the Midlands.

There was a man named William Roberts, who was a
builder. He was a widower and lived alone in a cottage. There
was rather a mystery regarding the death of his wife, who was
drowned in a pond.

in appearance William Roberts was far from prepossessing.
He was about five feet eight inches in height, stocky and
hunch-backed. He had a large head, big, mal-shaped ears, very
light blue eyes under shaggy eyebrows, and a blotchy com*
plexion. The ground on which he lived belonged to a Mr,
Reginald Cliff, who occupied The Gables, a picturesque house
about two hundred yards from Roberts' cottage.

The Gables was at one time a small house* Roberts had
lived in it and without the permission of Mr. Cliff, who was
the landlord, had added to it, and for that reason he actually
had the audacity to think The Gables belonged to him* Mr*
Cliff naturally opposed any such claim, had him ejected, and
lived in The Gables himself. He kindly permitted Roberts to
rent the cottage near him*

Roberts nourished a bitter animosity against Mr* Cliff for
denying his right to The Gables* I never liked Roberts and
always tried to avoid him out-oFdoors, On one occasion, how¬
ever, I was obliged to meet him. He at once started his usual
harangue against Mr. Cliff, and said that when he died he
would haunt The Gables and drive Mr* Cliff and his family
out of it* I was shocked at the venom in his voice and the
malign glitter in his light eyes*

He had a stroke soon after my encounter with him, and died
from the effects of it* Shortly after his death I left the village
and returned to London*

109

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

A year or so later the Cliffs asked me to spend a weekend
with them. The night of my arrival at The Gables I occupied
a room at the end of a corridor on the first floor. Tired from
my journey and much walking before I embarked on it, 1 fell
asleep almost before I was between the sheets.

I awoke with a start and a feeling that something was about
to happen. Fancying I heard a sound close to me, I sat up. It
was a fine night—I had not drawn the curtains as it was very
warm—and the moonlight flooding the room rendered every
article in it clearly visible. There was nothing to account for
the noise.

I was still glancing around when two figures—those of a
man and a woman—emerged from one of the walls. Their
white faces showed no animation, they were those of the dead.
In spite of his dreadful corpse-like appearance I recognized the
male apparition at once. It was William Roberts. The female
phantom did not resemble Mrs. Roberts nor anyone I had ever
seen.

In the course of very many nocturnal vigils in houses and
places reputed to be haunted, sometimes alone and sometimes
with other people, I have been badly jarred, but seldom if ever
more so than on this occasion. There was something so in¬
describably evil and sinister about the figures, and when
they came towards me I scrambled out of bed and on to the
landing.

However, I quickly pulled myself together and went back
to the room. To my great relief the apparitions had gone, and
there was nothing more ghostly than the white pillows gleam¬
ing in the moonlight.

In the morning I related my experience to the Cliffs, who
said they had frequently been disturbed by noises at night but
had never seen anything. When the Roberts lived in the
house there had been one large room at the end of the corridor.
After they left Mr. Cliff had made a partition in the room,
dividing it into two, a fact of which I was unaware. This, the
Cliffs thought, might account for the apparitions seeming to
emerge from the wall, which actually was the partition.

no

THE SPECTRES OF THE GABLES

Contrary to their wish, I slept another night in the same
room but did not see the ghosts again.

William Roberts failed in his design to drive the Cliffs
from The Gables, for they lived in it for many years, long after
the ghostly disturbances ceased.

nt

PEARLIN JEAN OF ALLANBANK

A traditional tragic story is associated with Allanbank, a seat
of one of the several lines of Stuarts.

About the middle of the eighteenth century Sir Robert
Stuart, the youthful owner of Allanbank, went one summer to
France to study the French language. While there he chanced
to meet a very pretty Sister of Charity named Jean and become
infatuated with her. At first she repelled his advances, reprov¬
ing him severely for venturing to make love to one who had so
entirely given herself up to a life of self-denial and unworldli¬
ness. He was however so persistent and pleaded his cause with
such apparent whole-hearted earnestness that she yielded at
last to his entreaties and agreed to marry him.

The courtship seemed to run smoothly for a time; then,
suddenly tiring of the trustful girl but not daring to break off
the engagement openly, Stuart wrote to her saying he had to
return to Scotland on urgent business.

He made preparations very covertly for the journey, and
was seated in the coach ready to start for the nearest port when
Jean appeared and begged to be taken with him. A painful
scene ensued, Jean eventually climbing on to the forewheel
of the coach in a vain endeavour to get into the vehicle, while
the callous Stuart ordered the coachman to start off. The coach¬
man obeyed, with the result that Jean slipped from the wheel
on to the ground and was driven over and crushed to death.
Quite unmoved, the inhuman Stuart drove to the coast and
sailed thence to Scotland.

It was late afternoon when he got to Allanbank and the
shadows of night were already blackening the roadside. There
was an ominous stillness about the place, a sense of some im¬
pending uncanny happening.

On approaching the lodge archway leading to his ancestral
house, the horses of his carriage shied, and it took all the skill

112

PEARLIN JEAN OF ALLANBANK

and coolness the driver possessed to steady them. Wondering
what was the matter with the horses, Stuart looked out of the
carriage window and received a terrible shock.

Peering down at him from the top of the stone archway was
a luminous white face. As he stared at it, too spellbound with
terror to utter a sound or even stir, its eyes suffused with an
expression of fiendish glee, while a white hand moved slowly
upward and pointed to the forehead, which bore the marks of
a ghastly wound.

For a moment he did not recognize the face, and then sud¬
denly he realized it was the face of the dead Jean, but that in
it there lurked a something that he could not associate with
the gende, affectionate creature he had so wantonly made love
to in France.

He was still gazing at it in horror when the carriage horses
plunged suddenly forward, tore through the archway and
along the avenue leading to the house. Above the clatter and
rumble of the wheels, however, he could hear a loud mocking
laugh, which followed him for some distance and then gradu¬
ally died away in a long, plaintive wail.

That night strange things happened at Allanbank. The
inmates of the house were awakened by the opening and shut¬
ting of doors and the pattering of high heels on the stairs and
in the passages.

A young footman, curious to discover who was disturbing
the household at so late an hour, crept out of his room and
downstairs on to one of the landings. He was about to tiptoe
along a corridor when the sound of footsteps ascending the
staircase at the far end of it made him hurriedly conceal him¬
self in an alcove. As he crouched there, fearful lest he should
be discovered, the footsteps left the stairs and he could hear
them in the corridor—the regular, measured tap, tap of high
heels on the polished oak floor—coming his way.

Nearer and nearer they drew, accompanied by the rustling
of a silk dress. Just as they were close to the alcove the moon,
which had hitherto been obscured by a dark cloud, suddenly
showed, clear and bright, through an oriel window near at

H

”3

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

hand and illuminated the whole corridor with its white, pene¬
trating rays.

The young footman gave himself up for lost and was ran¬
sacking his mind for some plausible excuse for his presence in
the corridor when the steps drew level with the alcove, and to
his unbounded astonishment he saw—no one. How he got back
to his room he never quite knew, but he arrived there some
way and hid under the bedclothes, quaking, until daybreak.

From that time onward hardly a night passed without un¬
canny happenings. Sir Robert Stuart, who had lost all his
former gaiety and light-heartedness, went to some place in
either a border county or actually in England, and returned
after several months with a bride.

On the night of their homecoming no one slept. Doors con¬
tinually flew open and closed with loud bangs; light, tapping
footsteps were heard running to and fro, as if someone was in
a state of great agitation; and sighings and moanings sounded
first in one part of the house and then another, though more
particularly on the landing outside the room in which the
young laird and his newly-wedded wife slept.

No less than seven ministers were sent for simultaneously
to lay the unhappy spirit, but Jean would have naught to do
with them or their prayers and continued her ghostly dis¬
turbances the moment they were gone.

Seized with a sudden inspiration, Stuart got a portrait of Jean
and hung it on the wall of the dining-room between the por¬
traits of himself and his wife. There was then comparative
peace at night for some weeks.

But the sight of Jean's face reposing tranquilly on the wall
next to her husband became at length so intolerable to Lady
Stuart that she insisted on having the portrait placed some¬
where out of sight. That night Jean was back at her old ghostly
pranks and was more disturbing than ever.

Sir Robert Stuart, realizing the futility of trying to get rid
of Jean, resigned himself to being haunted by her, which he
continued to be incessantly till his death. When that happened
the haunting of Allanbank ceased.

FEARLIN JEAN OF ALLANHANK.

A certain Mr. Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, who lived in
Edinburgh during the eighteenth century, numbered among
the members of his household Jennie Blackadder, a nurse, and
Betty Norrie, a housekeeper, both of whom had formerly been
servants at Allanbank.

Jennie affirmed that she often used to hear the tapping of
high-heeled shoes along the corridor in the Stuart mansion,
but although the sounds sometimes passed close to her she
never saw anything. Betty Norrie, on the other hand, affirmed
that she and some of the other maids used to see the ghost of
Pearlin Jean so often, that in the end they got quite used to
her and were never scared, except when she emerged suddenly
from some dark nook or comer and took them unawares.

"5

THE HAUNTING OF ALLUM COURT

Ralph Aldrum, a keen psychical researcher, hearing reports
of the haunting of Allum Court, a country mansion not far
from Taunton, wrote to Mr, Walter Smith, the owner of the
house, asking permission to spend a night or two there with
a friend.

Mr, Smith, who was in Paris at the time, gave his consent
and expressed his desire to accompany Aldrum and his friend.
‘I hardly know the place/ he wrote, 4 as my uncle who left it
to me has only died recently/

A date was fixed for the three men to go to Allum Court,
but owing to Smith being unexpectedly detained in London he
was unable to travel to the house with Aldrum; consequently
Aldrum and his cousin. Jack Dean, went there without him.

It was about six o'clock in the evening when they arrived
at Fairland, the nearest station to Allum Court, There they
were met by a dog-cart and an old groom—it was before the
days of motor-cars. The Court, which was in a slight hollow,
was a rambling old building covered with ivy up to the chim¬
neys. A great hall, in the centre of which was a large round
table, faced the travellers on entering, A wide black oak stair¬
case led to a gallery connecting the two wings of the house,
the East and West.

No one was living in the house. The caretakers, Mr. and
Mrs. Brown, lived at the lodge. Mrs. Brown had prepared a
hot meal for the two visitors in the spacious dining-room, and
after it Aldrum and Dean went for a stroll in the grounds.

It was a fine night, deliciously fresh after the stuffy atmos¬
phere of London. A gravel path circled a picturesque lake at
the far end of the wide, well-kept lawn, and a belt of larches
and fir trees threw black shadows over the deep, dark water.
The two men had just reached the gravel path when they saw
coming towards them a woman in a white or light dress. She

116

THE HAUNTING OF ALLUM COURT

was carrying a bundle in her arms. When about twenty yards
from them she stopped. There was a glorious yellow moon,
and the light from it focusing on her revealed her face with
quite startling clearness. It was very pale. She appeared to be
young with dark hair and eyes.

The bundle was a baby. Raising it in her arras, with an
expression of the utmost loathing and hatred in her face*
the woman hurled the baby into the lake. Then, turning, she
walked swiftly away, disappearing from sight in the gloom
and shadows of the trees.

For some moments the two men were too overcome with
horror to move or speak. The ghastly incident had been en¬
acted in absolute silence, neither the woman nor the child
uttering a sound. There had been no sound of a splash when
the child entered the water, and the woman had gone as noise¬
lessly as she had come.

The realization of this came to the two men simultaneously,
and they intuitively felt that what they had witnessed must
have been the ghostly re-enaction of a horrible crime. The
eeriness of the spot affected the men to such an extent that
they made quick tracks for the house.

They were tired and soon went to their respective bedrooms.
Aldrum was warming himself by the fire in his room, for the
night had become chilly, when Dean entered. He said that
after what had taken place in the grounds he felt too shaken
to remain alone. The two decided that instead of going to bed
they would sit all through the night by the fire. For some
time they talked and smoked, then gradually their conversa¬
tion waned and they both dozed,

Aldrum was the first to wake. The sound of a distant dock
striking twelve fell with startling distinctness on the stillness
that reigned everywhere. Dean was still fast asleep. Aldrum
experienced a curious sense of expectation, a waiting for he
knew not what. Presently he heard the tap, tap, tap of light
hurried footsteps coming along the corridor outside the room.
Hardly had they passed the door when there was an awful
wailing scream followed by the slight sound of a struggle.

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Dean was awake in an instant and sprang to his feet. ‘Good
God I ‘ he cried. ‘What was that?’

Aldrum threw open the door and they both peered appre¬
hensively up and down the corridor. Nothing was to be seen
but a long spray of ivy that waved and swayed in the breeze,
beating gently against the window at the end of the corridor
nearest to them. They were far too scared to sleep again and
sat in the room with two candles burning till daylight. They
said nothing about what happened to Mrs. Brown.

During the afternoon Smith arrived. He was very interested
to learn of their experience.

‘The unde who left me this place and seldom stayed here
told me there was a ghostly legend associated with it,' he said.
‘In the reign of Charles II one of his and my ancestresses lived
here. She was very beautiful—her portrait was painted by Lely.
Even in that dark age of immorality she was conspicuous for
her wickedness, and for her many evil deeds was doomed after
death to haunt for ever this house and grounds.

'To all people but the heir of every third generation she
appears as she was in life, young and lovely. To him she is in
a form as hideous as her soul was bad.’

And he added: ‘Unless I marry and have a child my line of
Smiths ends with my death.’

‘Are you not scared lest you should see the hideous ghost?’
Dean asked.

Smith laughed. ‘No! I have never seen a ghost and never
shall. I am not psychic like you two must be.’

After their evening meal all three men went into the
grounds. It was a glorious moonlight night, hardly a breeze
and very still. Occasionally an owl hooted and a far off dog
barked.

They had got to the gravel path by the lake when Dean
clutched Aldrum by the arm. ‘There she isl ’ he cried. Coming
along the path was the same woman carrying the baby wrapped
in a dark cloth in her arms. As she drew nearer and came into
the moonbeams every feature in her face was thrown into
strong relief against the dark background of nearby trees and

118

THE HAUNTING OF ALLUM COURT

bushes. There was a half frightened, half resolute look in her
lovely expressive eyes. She had got to about twenty yards from
them when she halted, her face suddenly convulsed with an
expression of loathing and fiendish hatred. She raised her arms
and hurled the baby into the lake; then, as on the preceding
evening, she turned sharply and walked quickly away.

This time, however, there was a certain indistinctness or
something shadowy about her as she went that they had not
noticed before. Aldrum and Dean asked Smith what he
thought of the dreadful drama they had just witnessed, and
he replied: ‘I have not seen anything. I told you that I would
not as I am not in the least degree psychic.’ But he did not
doubt that they had really seen what they described. He
thought that the lovely phantom woman might well have been
his wicked ancestress, and the child she threw into the lake
the product of her alleged incest. He suggested that they
should all sit in the corridor that night and await the advent
of the tapping ghost.

So at about three minutes to eleven the three men sat, a
few feet apart, outside Aldrum s room. Their only light was
from the moon which was visible through the end window.
They were half asleep when the house-clock struck twelve.
They tensed immediately, their ears strained to catch the
anticipated tapping. But no sounds were heard, everywhere
was still. After a few minutes had elapsed Smith yawned. ‘The
ghost won’t come,’ he said. 'Ghosts never come after midnight.'

Aldrum lit a candle and looked at his watch. He had taken
the precaution to set it by the church clock that morning. The
church clock was fast—it was not quite twelve. He blew out
the light and was about to say something when the door at one
end of the corridor opened and closed. The silence that fol¬
lowed was soon broken by the tap, tap, tap of high heels on
the hard boards. It was a measured tread, light yet determined,
accompanied this time by a sound between a swish and a rustle,
like the brushing of a silk dress against the walls of the cor¬
ridor. Nearer and nearer the tapping came, yet still nothing
was to be seen.

”9

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

As the invisible feet passed Aldrura he could feel the boards
quiver under them. Dean was sitting a little distance behind
Aldrum. Hardly had the sounds passed Dean when Smith sud¬
denly rose from his seat.

'Take the thing awayl* he shouted hoarsely. ‘Take the
cursed thing awayl Oh my GodI * He gave a gasping cry of
terror and fell.

The next moment there was the awful spine-chilling avail¬
ing scream that Aldrum had heard the previous night; and
then a death-like silence. And it was death, for when Dean
bent over the prostrate Smith and felt his wrist, there was no
sign of life.

The doctor whom they summoned said Smith's death was
due to shock and excitement, that he had had heart disease.

Remembering what Smith had told them about the heir of
every third generation seeing the phantom of his evil ancestress
in an inconceivably hideous form, Aldrum and Dean believed
that Smith had at last seen a ghost.

tao

THE GHOSTS OF THE WHITE GARTER

That haunted inns should be far more frequently met with
than haunted houses of any other kind seems only natural
when one considers that in bygone days so many inns were
nothing more or less than death-traps—dens into which travel¬
lers were lured and surreptitiously butchered.

Then again, even those who died a natural death at an inn
would in all probability be earth-bound, the strong desire to
communicate with far-away friends or relatives chaining them
to the spot where sickness and death so unexpectedly overtook
them.

Perhaps one of the best authenticated inn hauntings is that
of a hostelry in Portsmouth called The White Garter. In the
last century Mr. Samwell, an officer in the Royal Navy, had a
very remarkable experience there. He was travelling by horse-
coach from London to Portsmouth and had almost reached
Guildford when an accident occurred to the coach which caused
a long delay. Consequently he did not arrive in Portsmouth
till long after midnight, when, to his consternation, he found
every inn in the town full. After wandering about for a con¬
siderable time, he at length found himself in a very narrow
thoroughfare on the outskirts of the town, leading to Fortsea.
He was threading his way carefully along it, for there had been
much rain of late and the ditches on either side of the road¬
way were full of water, when to his intense satisfaction he
suddenly saw a little way ahead of him a faint glare of light.
Quickening his steps, he soon found that the light came from
a low, white, straggling building, standing some yards back
from the road. After he had rapped several times the door
was answered by a woman who, not without a certain hesita¬
tion, agreed to let him have a bed and breakfast.

Always interested in and observant of women, Samwell took
careful stock of his hostess while she was speaking, and noticed

121

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

that, although she was somewhat negligently dressed and was
by no means as spick and span as most o£ the young women
of his acquaintance in London, her clothes were nevertheless
good and expensively made. This impressed him a good deal,
because from her voice and appearance he had concluded that
she belonged to the working classes. She was attractive in a
dark, gipsy-like fashion, but there was something in her eyes
that repelled him- She also exhibited a curious snake-like
movement of the limbs when she walked, which struck him as
singularly odd-.

Nor did he like the look of the house. It was unusually
dark and gloomy, and the silence that greeted him as he walked
across the stone-flagged hall and mounted the broad black oak
staircase at the heels of the woman, seemed peculiarly
emphatic.

The room to which Samwell was conducted was on the first
landing. It was low and irregularly built, full of deep, inlet
cupboards and recesses, which the waving, uncertain light of
the rush candle that the woman handed him barely penetrated.
Samwell, however, was far too tired and accustomed to dangers
of all kinds to trouble much about his surroundings. He gave
a hurried glance round to see that no one was in hiding, and
then, shutting the door and locking it, flung off his clothes
and got quickly into bed.

How long he slept he could not say, but he awoke with a
violent start and with the peculiar sensation that he was no
longer alone. Half opening his eyes, he saw something bright
by his bedside. He at once sat bolt upright, and was astounded
to see standing in front of him the tall figure of a man, wrapped
in a shaggy overcoat, wearing a slouched hat, and holding a
lantern in one hand.

For some seconds Samwell stared at the intruder, too dumb¬
founded to say anything, but his power of speech at length
returning, he sternly demanded of the stranger who he was
and how he dared venture into the room with permission.
Not receiving any reply, and seeing the figure raise an arm
as if about to strike him. Samwell sprang from the bed and

122

THE GHOSTS OF THE WHITE GARTER

hit out with all his might. To his astonishment, however, his
fist encountered no resistance, so that, overbalancing, he fell
on the floor, and when he picked himself up and glanced
around for his antagonist, he found he was alone.

Thoroughly alarmed, for he could only conclude that what
he had seen was an apparition to warn him of some impending
danger, Samwell resolved to get out of the place as quickly
as possible. In rousing the landlady to pay her he would incur
the danger of bringing on to the scene other inmates of the
house, who would doubtless try to prevent him leaving, but, he
reflected, he was very fit and strong, and though he possessed
no firearms, he had with him a stout cudgel, which in his
powerful grip would be a weapon of no mean order, and at any
rate it would be better to be awake and prepared, and to die
fighting, than to get back again into bed, go to sleep and prob¬
ably be done to death without the opportunity of resisting.

Having thus made up his mind, Samwell opened his door
cautiously and, walking on tiptoe across the landing, crept as
noiselessly as possible downstairs, not pausing till he had
gained the ground floor. He then quickly unbolted the
front door and, having set it ajar, so that he could make a
hurried exit if necessary, he called aloud to the landlady. Once
or twice during his descent of the stairs he had fancied that
he heard someone moving about, and he was constantly under
the impression that he was being stealthily watched, so that
it was hardly a surprise to him when the landlady, accom¬
panied by a dark, squat, sinister-looking individual whom
she addressed as 'Charlie', very shortly made her appearance,
fully dressed.

As the pair of them came downstairs into the hall, Samwell
distinctly caught the clicking of several door handles from
somewhere overhead, and the very subdued whispering of
harsh, uncouth voices. On his telling the landlady why he was
leaving, both she and her companion pressed him to stay,
declaring that what he had experienced could only have been
a dream. There was something in their voices, however, which
Samwell did not like, they sounded hollow and insincere; and

123

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

that, coupled with the expression in their eyes and general
appearance, put him on his guard. He hurried from the inn
and spent the rest of the night walking the sea front

In the morning he recounted his experience to several of
the townspeople, who told him that a mystery had for a long
time hung over that particular inn, more than one stranger
putting up there having mysteriously disappeared, whilst
pedestrians, passing by it at night, had complained of hearing
startling noises and seeing strange, unaccountable lights.

Sir John Carter, who was at that time Mayor of Portsmouth,
was induced to take the matter up, but when the authorities
went to the house it was found that the proprietors had de¬
camped. The affair was then allowed to drop and, according to
report, the premises were shortly afterwards pulled down,
when a number of remains, unmistakably human, in all stages
of decomposition, were found under the flooring and in the
back garden.

Another house, also a hostelry, was soon erected on the same
site, but despite an altogether different signboard, this inn
was never alluded to locally save by the familiar name of The
White Garter; and the sinister reputation which had been
associated with the former building was to a certain extent
speedily acquired by the new one* Horses passing by its en¬
trance late at night were said to shy at strange and inexplicable
shadows that silently emerged from the gateway and took up
their stand by the wayside, whilst cries and groans, and occa¬
sionally sounds of frenzied, hurried digging, were only too
plainly heard coming from the ground in the rear.

The disturbances this time, however, were entirely attri¬
buted to the supernatural, as the owners of the establishment
were highly esteemed people who ran the house on most excel¬
lent lines, and whose conduct of it seemed above suspicion.
Things went on in this way for some years, and then a story
got into circulation which once again brought the house into
bad repute and led to another speedy change, both of pro¬
prietorship and signboard.

A Mr. Harrison, on accepting an appointment in the Naval

124

THE GHOSTS OF THE WHITE GARTER

Dockyard, left his home in London and journeyed to Pom-
mouth with the intention of taking up his new duties without
delay. On his arrival in the town he set to work at once to look
for lodgings, and, finding every apartment house in the place
full, he finally succeeded in getting a room at the White Garter
Hotel. The landlady had only a double-bedded room left, and
this she did not wish to let to a single person. However, when
Harrison offered to pay the double fee she somewhat reluc¬
tantly consented, and he engaged the room, stipulating that
he should have it to himself and not share it with another man,
as she had at first suggested.

Having a good many letters to get off by the night mail, it
was late before he turned in, and, being of a somewhat shrewd
and cautious disposition, and remembering that Portsmouth
was said to be the happy hunting ground of rogues of all kinds,
he first of all carefully locked his door. He then undressed
hastily, for the room was none too warm, blew out the light
and scrambled into bed. Harrison went to sleep almost im¬
mediately, to be aroused about two o'clock by a curious moan¬
ing sound from somewhere beneath his window. Unable to
make out what it could be, he was about to get up to look
when his eyes fell on the spare bed by his side, and he received
a violent shock. Confronting him, in a half-sitting, half-lying
posture, was a man. The moonlight being very strong and
fully focused on the bed, every detail in the stranger's appear¬
ance stood out with the most startling distinctness. He was a
young fellow, to judge from his jet black hair and whiskers,
evidently in the prime of life, but his head was bent low and
consequently Harrison could not see his features. He was only
partially undressed, having his trousers, shirt and vest still on,
and his attitude suggested he was fast asleep.

At first Harrison, who was furious at the trick his landlady
had played on him, contemplated rousing the stranger and tell¬
ing him to leave the room instantly, but the man kept so quiet
that, on second thoughts, Harrison decided to leave him alone
and say nothing till morning. Thus resolved, he lay down
again in bed, and was soon fast asleep.

125

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

This time Harrison slept undisturbed, and did not wake
till a neighbouring church clock informed him it was seven
o’clock. The room was then aglow with sunshine, and the hum
of voices in the yard and grounds outside announced the fact
that the day’s work had already begun. Harrison looked at
die bed alongside his. The semi-dressed individual, whom he
now took to be a sailor, was still in the same position, asleep,
but Harrison saw with a thrill that whereas there had been
nothing on the man's head before, it was now swathed in band¬
ages. What puzzled him most, however, was to think how the
stranger could have got into the room, as the door was still
locked on the inside; the only window was bolted, and there
was no other apparent entrance.

Still pondering over this Harrison slowly began to dress,
and. fetching in the hot water which the maid had left at the
door, he had his shave. This done he turned away from the
dressing-table, and, his glance travelling in the direction of
the two beds, he saw to his intense surprise that the sailor was
no longer in the room. Utterly mystified as to how the man
could have left without his either seeing or hearing him, and
feeling for the first time since his arrival in the house a sensa¬
tion closely akin to fear, Harrison hurriedly completed his
toilet and hastened downstairs. After he had finished his break¬
fast he summoned the landlady, and angrily demanded what
she meant by breaking her promise to him and letting someone
share his room.

'Share your room, sir I' she cried. “Whatever are you talking
about? There was no one in your room last night but your¬
self, and you know that as well as I do.’

'No, I don’t,’ Harrison retorted furiously. ‘Here, take your
money, but you will never catch me crossing your threshold
again.* And, throwing the money to her, he clapped on his
hat and was stalking out of the house when a curious, half-
frightened look on her face made him pause.

'It must have been "Whiskers" you saw, sir,' she said faintly.
‘I feared he would never rest.’

126

THE GHOSTS OF THE WHITE GARTER

What the deuce do you mean?’ Harrison remarked, his
curiosity now thoroughly aroused.

‘Tell me,’ the landlady replied, ‘had the man who stayed in
your room all night very black hair and whiskers?’

‘Nothing could have been blacker,’ was the response.

‘And was he dressed as a sailor?’

Harrison nodded.

‘Well, then,’ the landlady observed emphatically, ‘that was
no man but a ghost, and I might as well make a clean breast
of it. Some days ago we had a party of sailors staying here, and
two of them, one a young fellow with curly black hair and
whiskers, the other a much older man going bald, occupied
your room. They sat up very late drinking and playing cards,
and the bald-headed man accused "Whiskers”, as we called
him, of cheating. There was a fight, and ’Whiskers” received
a blow on the head from a glass bottle. Of course I did all I
could for him, but he died before morning in the bed along¬
side the one you slept in. I ought, of course, to have told the
authorities, but the bald-headed man begged me so hard not
to do so, as it would mean for certain a charge of manslaughter
against him, that I kept quiet—you see, 1 had the reputation
of my house to think of too, and in the end they, the bald-
headed fellow and his mates, secretly buried “Whiskers”, with
my sanction in the garden.

'The servants, I believe, knew nothing of what had occurred,
but the day before yesterday Polly, one of the chambermaids,
came to me with a scared face and told me she had seen
"Whiskers" looking out of the window of the room he had
slept in, with something very queer fastened round his head.
I told her it was sheer fancy and that she must have been
dreaming, but now I know that "Whiskers” does really haunt
the place, and if the story leaks out I shall be ruined.’

Not wholly convinced that the woman was speaking the
truth, Harrison went away fully intending to report the matter
to the local police, but on arriving at the dockyard he found
that his appointment there had been cancelled; another post
had been allotted to him in the Colonies and he was requested

127

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

10 leave for abroad almost immediately. In these circumstances
he could do nothing but make a few hurried arrangements
for his departure, and it was not until his return to Ports¬
mouth several years later that he thought again at all seriously
of the strange adventure he had had in the double-bedded
room at the old inn.

Thinking there must be some mystery attached to the place,
he set out to look for The White Garter, and, arriving at the
well-remembered spot, found a new signboard hanging out
where the old one had been. The house, so he was told, had
been partly pulled down and rebuilt, and was now under a
different name and an entirely new management.

Years have elapsed since then but, if there is any truth in
rumour, the place is still in existence and still badly haunted.

Taunton and York both have old inns with certain rooms
said to be haunted by vicious ghosts, people who have spent
the night in them undergoing all the painful sensations of
choking and strangulation. Bristol has an hotel with an under¬
ground passage connecting it to a house on the other side of
the road, and this passage was long reputed to be haunted by
strange-coloured lights Sitting to and fro and the figure of a
woman with a very white face, and clad in garments which
were very uttered and torn. She was seen usually peering
round corners with a grim and evil smile.

In the Chilterns there is an inn, once a farmhouse, that
stands close beside crossroads, and there all manner of startling
things are said to happen periodically. For years the place
may go unmolested by any kind of supernatural disturbance,
and then, quite suddenly, the hauntings may break out and
continue night after night for weeks and sometimes months.
One of the phenomena alleged to occur there is the sound of
a loud grunting and snuffling which is heard about midnight,
coming from waste ground behind the building. People have,
it is said, occasionally gone out to ascertain the cause of Lhese
strange sounds, and all who have done so invariably come
back declaring, with terrified faces, that they have seen a herd
of enormous black hogs gnawing and tearing at some white

128

THE GHOSTS OF THE WHITE GARTER

and ghastly-looking object on the ground. However, the
moment any attempt is made to interfere with these animals,
they insuntly and inexplicably disappear.

A suggested explanation of this phenomenon is that, many
years ago, a former proprietress of the place, tiring of her hus¬
band, who was a great deal older than herself, and desiring to
marry someone else, gave him drugged wine to drink and then,
carrying him into the pig pen, left him there for the voracious
animals to eat.

Yet another ghostly manifestation witnessed outside the inn
is that of a shrouded figure which is from time to time seen,
on nights when the moon is full, suspended to a phantom
gibbet at the junction of the four roads, On these occasions
guests in the inn have been awakened by the rattling of chains,
and on looking out of their windows have seen the form
dangling gently to and fro in the still night air. Once someone
fetched a shotgun and fired at it repeatedly, but with no effect;
for it still continued its slow and solemn oscillations, vanishing
only at dawn.

There is still one more ghostly phenomenon apparently
attached to the place, and that a white face with long, strag¬
gling locks of grey hair blowing all around it, and big dark
eyes full of the most heartrending despair. It is generally
seen at twilight, and always peering in at one of the windows
on the ground Boor. As a rule, those who have seen it have
been far too terrified to attempt to address it; but on the rare
occasions when people have summoned up the courage to
speak, it has invariably vanished instantaneously without
making any kind of response whatever.

Of this phenomenon there is no explanation at all. Possibly
the spirit may be that of some murderer or suicide buried at
the crossroads, and chained to the spot through the enormity
of his or her vices.

In London there are a number of hotels reputed to be
haunted. There is one, for instance, in a quiet side-street not
far from Southampton Row, where guests have been aroused
about two o’clock in the morning by the mad galloping of

1

129

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

horses. The sounds come from very far off in the first instance,
and, growing gradually louder and louder, eventually seem
to be actually in the house itself, and so close to the beds of
the listeners that they can actually feel the rush of wind in
their faces as the phantom steeds tear wildly past them. Noth¬
ing, however, that I know of, has ever been seen there.

Lastly, there is a hotel close to the Strand where the haunt¬
ing is of a more remarkable nature. A man staying there not
long ago awoke in the night feeling a cold air blowing up
from beneath him all around his bed, and with the sensation
that he was lying suspended over a funnel-shaped pit of the
most prodigious depth and terrifying appearance. It was all
so absolutely realistic—he could even hear the steady drip,
drip of the water from the reeking earthen sides, and detect
the faint smell of fungus and decaying vegetable matter
peculiar to such places—that the sweat burst out all over him
and he clung on to the mattress in an agony of terror till the
morning.

He spoke to the hotel proprietor about it, and finally suc¬
ceeded in extracting an admission from his host that the ex¬
perience he had had in the room was by no means an un¬
common one, nearly everyone who slept there at that time of
the year complaining of the same sensations. The proprietor
could only account for it by the rumour that where the hotel
now stood there had once been a pit into which the dead, and
sometimes the living too, were flung indiscriminately during
the Great Plague.

130

THE NUN OF DIGBY COURT

Ralph Marlow received a letter one morning in December,
1820, from his friend Dick Holloway. ‘Dear Ralph/ Holloway
wrote, ‘If you are not fixed for Christmas stay with me at
Digby Court in Warwickshire. I have inherited the house and
lands from my great-uncle Sir Arthur Holloway but I have
never been there. Do come/

As it happened Marlow had not fixed on anywhere to spend
Christmas, so he was glad to accept the invitation. He and
Holloway were old Harrow boys and had shared the same
study there.

He packed his portmanteau and took a hackney coach to
the Peacock Inn at St. Pancras, where he got a seat in the
stage-coach for Warwick. On arriving at Warwick he found
a carriage waiting for him, and was driven to Digby Court.
A drive through an avenue of stately old trees led to the house,
a long building of two storeys at each end of which was a
gabled tower covered with ivy. Fronting the house was an
extensive lawn, and at the end of this a lake bordered by trees
and bushes.

On entering the house Marlow was led by Mrs. Hay, the
elderly caretaker, across a wide hall, overlooked by a gallery
connecting the East and West wings. A broad oak staircase led
from the hall to the gallery.

A good supper was laid for him in the dining-room, the
walls of which were adorned with portraits of the Holloways.
Marlow did full justice to it, for the drive along the frost
laden high-road had made him very hungry. Mrs. Hay asked
if there was anything she could do for him before he went to
bed, and then left the house. She lived at the park lodge, and
seemed in a hurry to get back to it. Holloway was not to come
till the next day. Marlow sat before the cheerful wood fire in

* 3 *

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

the dining-room for some time before he went to bed. He then
experienced his first shock.

As he was ascending the staircase to his room a figure covered
with what looked like wool rushed past him, leaving behind
it a dreadful smell, like that of a charnel house. What the figure
was, whether male or female, or anything at all human he
could not tell, and it was only with a desperate effort that he
recovered from the fright that the thing gave him, and con¬
tinued to ascend the stairs.

His room was in a corridor in the East wing, and there he
found a bright fire in the wide, old-world grate. He locked the
door, sat before the fire for some minutes, and then got into
bed, sleeping till Mrs. Hay brought him a cup of tea in the
morning. He did not mention his experience to her.

Holloway and a party of people, with servants and luggage,
arrived at noon. A more merry party had seldom, if ever, sat
down to lunch. They then spent the afternoon wandering
about the house and grounds.

Marlow, Holloway and some of the guests were approaching
the lake along a path Banked on either side by bushes when
a woman in the garb of a nun passed quickly by them.

'A nunl' Holloway exclaimed. 'How did she get here, 1
wonder? There is no convent near here.’

They watched her receding form till it vanished round a
bend in the path. When they returned to the house Mrs. Hay
was still there and Holloway asked the caretaker who the nun
was. Looking very taken back and nervous she said, '1 don't
know, sir. I have never seen a nun here.’

After supper and coffee in the drawing-room, the women
chatted for a while, and then went to bed. When they had
gone the men sat in the big hall, smoking and drinking. It was
close on twelve o'clock when one of them uttered an exclama¬
tion of surprise, and pointed to the gallery. Standing in it were
three people, two men and a woman. They appeared to be
talking but made no sound. Suddenly a nun rushed into the
gallery and, falling on her knees in front of the trio, raised
her hands in a supplicating gesture. Her face was that of a

132

THE NUN OF DIGBY COURT

long buried corpse, and a ghastly stench accompanied her.
Appalled by her appearance and the smell the men in the hall
stared in spellbound silence at the gallery. They did not speak
or stir until as suddenly as they had appeared the phantom
figures vanished.

*My Godl Horrible! Ghastlyl What does it mean? Don't
tell the ladies,' were the exclamations that succeeded the dis¬
appearance of the apparitions.

Tm dashed if 1 know what it means,' Holloway said. *1 had
no idea this place was haunted. My great-uncle never com¬
plained of ghosts.’

They kept very near one another when they went to bed.

In the morning two of the women declared that nothing
would induce them to stay another hour in the house; they
had been visited by a dreadful figure covered with wool, and
smelling horribly, in the night, and had been obliged to sit
huddled close together in the corridor for a time.

Their departure saw the departure of all the women and
some of the men; those that remained out of bravado saw the
same phantoms again that night.

All the servants having panicked and left, Holloway, Mar¬
low, and the other men who had stayed left too, and Digby
Court was abandoned to cobwebs, stillness and ghosts.

>33

THE PHANTOM LADY OF BERRY POMEROY

Romantically situated amid some of the most beautiful
scenery in Devon, the picturesque ruins of Berry Pomeroy
Castle, near Totnes, date to two main periods. The older part
is said to have been built by Ralph de Poerai (Pomeroi), one
of the followers of William I, who for his valour in battle was
given much land in the vicinity of the river Dart. The later
portion of the ruins date from the mid-sixteenth century, when
the estate of Berry Pomeroy, comprising the village of that
name, castle premises and territory passed into the possession
of the Duke of Somerset, who shortly afterwards became Lord
Protector.

Either before or during the feudal wars the castle was made
into a fortress, considered practically impregnable because of
its standing on an eminence, with one of its sides on the brink
of a cliff, and the only approach to it being through a wood,
which in those days was very dense and extensive.

There is litde doubt that during its long history many a
dark and tragic incident was enacted within its massive and
grim walls.

One violent scene that lived long in the memory of those
who witnessed it occurred towards the latter part of the reign
of Richard I. That monarch having learned, on his retu™
from captivity, that Henry de Pomeroi, lineal descendant of
Ralph de Pomeroi, founder of the castle, had been disloyal to
him, having sided with Prince John against him, ordered his
arrest. On the approach of the king's pursuivants, de Pomeroi,
rather than surrender, mounted his favourite charger and,
with a shout of defiance, made it leap from the battlement of
the castle into the gorge beneath.

Henry’s is one of the ghosts rumoured to haunt, periodically,
the castle ruins and the nearby banks of the river Dart.

The castle remained in possession of the de Pomeroi family

*34

THE PHANTOM LADY OF BERRY POMEROY

from the days of the Conqueror to about the year 1549, when
the last of its owners was accused of taking part in a rebellion
against the Government, and only saved his life by making
over his estate to the wily Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset.
The castle was dismantled during the Civil Wars of the seven¬
teenth century but was restored to all its pristine splendour
by Sir Edward Seymour in the reign of James II. After his
death it fell into a state of decay, the process of destruction
being quickened, so it has been asserted, by a thunderstorm
of the most unparalleled violence.

The more widely known of the castle hauntings concern
either two phantom ladies, or, if only one, an apparition whose
purpose and significance is not always the same. In her one role
she is merely the presager of death to a member of any family
intimately associated or connected with the castle, while in
her other role she deliberately lures to death or serious acci¬
dent any person who has the misfortune to see her.

At the International Club for Psychical Research in 1913
Mr, Taylor, an elderly member of the club, related an authen¬
tic story told him in his youth by a Mrs. King of Torquay.
Mrs. King said that her brother, who was an officer in a line
regiment, while spending his leave at home, went one day to
Berry Pomeroy village to see the castle. Not believing in ghosts
he paid no attention to the rumour he had heard of the castle
being haunted. Having obtained the keys, on payment of a
small gratuity to the lodge-keeper, he was wandering about
the ruins, when he saw a young and beautiful girl, wearing
a very becoming albeit somewhat quaint costume, beckoning
to him, as if in distress, from the summit of one of the lofty,
ivy-dad walk.

Supposing she was afraid to move lest she should fall, and
wondering who she was and how she got there, he searched
for a means to get to her, and, having found what appeared
to be the only way, he had nearly reached her when the
masonry under his feet subsided, and it was only by a miracle
that he saved himself from plunging to a great depth. Clinging

135

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

desperately to a narrow ledge he was all but spent when luckily
he was seen and rescued.

On mentioning the lovely damsel and her predicament he
was informed that there was no need to worry about her since
she was not of this world but the much dreaded phantom of a
long defunct member of the Pomeroy family, who took a
fiendish delight in luring people, especially men, to their
destruction.

Mrs. King’s story of the haunting of Berry Pomeroy Castle
by this phantom is one of many told of the apparition. Regard¬
ing the death presaging phantom, the following account is
taken from the memoirs of the eminent physician, Sir Walter
Farquhar.

When Sir Walter was a general practitioner in Torquay, he
was summoned one day to the wife of the Steward of Berry
Pomeroy Castle, who was seriously ill. On arriving at the castle,
a portion of which was occupied, he was shown into a gloomy
room, a curious feature of which was an old staircase in one
corner leading to an apartment overhead.

He was becoming impatient at being kept waiting when
the door opened and a woman entered. Owing to the dull
weather and the window being stained the light was so poor
that he could not see the woman's face very distinctly, but he
got the impression that she was young and good looking, and
that her dress was of some very rich material. Her bracelets
jingled as she walked across the Boor and the jewels in her
ears and on her breast emitted a faint glow.

Without seeming to notice Dr. Farquhar she made for the
staircase, halted at the foot of it, as if hesitating to go on, and
then slowly began to ascend. When she was nearly at the top
she again paused and looked down and round at the doctor.
At that moment the sky seemed to brighten and, the light
from the window over the stairs focusing on her face, she
was then for the first time fully revealed to Dr. Farquhar. She
was strikingly beautiful but her attractiveness was in a large
measure marred by the reflection in her features of the obvious

136

THE PHANTOM LADY OF BERRY POMEROY

struggle that was taking place within her, a struggle between
passions of the most vicious kind and utter despair.

That she belonged to a wealthy and highly aristocratic class
was depicted in the delicate moulding of all her lineaments,
in the exquisite shape of her hands, with their long tapering
fingers, in the richness of her dress and in her costly jewellery.
Immeasurably shocked but horribly fascinated. Dr. Farquhar
stood rooted to the floor, wholly unable to tear his gaze from
her face, so wicked and so pitiably despairing.

The was an indescribable eeriness about her that infected
the atmosphere of the room, and he felt, as he looked at her,
that he was seeing a soul damned without a particle of hope.

Continuing her ascent the woman vanished from view over¬
head. Sorely perplexed and not a little jarred the doctor was
debating in his mind who or what she could have been when
he was summoned to the bedside of his patient.

He visited the patient again the following morning and was
pleased to find a great improvement in her. After he had left
her and was alone for a few minutes with the Steward, he told
the latter about his strange experience in the castle the pre¬
vious day. To his consternation the Steward was much upset.
“I would rather anything had happened but that,’ the Steward
exclaimed, and on Dr, Farquhar asking what he meant, the
man told him that the beautiful figure he had seen on the
staircase was not of flesh and blood but the ghost of the
daughter of a long ago Pomeroy owner of the castle, doomed
for many sins and crime, one of which was the murder of her
child, the outcome of an incestuous intercourse, to haunt the
casde, always appearing in that particular room prior to the
death of someone living in the building.

'The last time she was seen here,’ the Steward said, ‘was the
day my son was drowned, and her appearance to you yesterday
can only mean one thing, the death of my poor wife.*

Dr. Farquhar told him there was really no need for alarm
as his wife was no longer in any danger. The Steward, however,
refused to be comforted; and that very day, a few hours after
the doctor’s visit, his wife died.

>37

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Many years later, when Dr. Farquhar, no longer a general
practitioner, was living in London and had achieved fame in
his profession, a woman came to see him one day about her
sister who, she said, was becoming very ill over nothing more
than a persisting hallucination. The woman said that she, her
brother and sister, while staying a few weeks in Torquay, had
driven one morning to Berry Pomeroy to see the castle. While
she and her brother were in conversation with the lodge-keeper
her sister was alone in the room with the comer staircase, and
when they returned to her they found her in a very agitated
state. The sister declared that a woman had passed through
the room, wringing her hands and with an expression on her
lovely face that she would never forget.

'We laughed at my sister,’ the woman said, ‘and told her she
must have been dreaming, but she persisted, and still persists
that she saw such a person.’

‘Do you know if anyone closely associated with the castle
died soon after your visit to it?’ Dr. Farquhar asked.

‘The Steward died the same day/ his caller said.

‘Your sister is suffering from no hallucination,' Dr. Farquhar
exclaimed, 'for I, too, saw that woman/ He then described
his experience in the room with the comer staircase, express¬
ing his wish to see the sister. ‘Whatever you do/ he added,
‘never again ridicule her or cast any doubt on what she told
you/

The following day the woman’s sister came to him as a
patient, and under his treatment she rapidly got well.

138

THE HAUNTING OF ST. GILES

Hospitals, like gaols, are sometimes haunted. Bethesda is
haunted by the ghost of a girl, Rebecca, and a hospital near
Buckingham Palace Road, London, by an eerie black mist
which is seen in one of the wards before a death; but no hospital
has been so badly haunted as a hospital near Edinburgh, which
we must call ‘St. Giles’.

My old schoolfellow Bruce Carnegie met with an accident
some years ago in Edinburgh, which necessitated his going to
St. Giles. He was put in Ward D, and had a cubicle to himself.

The third night he was lying in bed in a state of semi-wake-
fulness when two nurses entered the room with a moveable
couch. The older of the nurses gave him an injection. They
then put him on the couch and took him to a room where there
were two doctors in white hoods and white robes—their faces
muffled. One of them bent over him. Carnegie sensed that it
was a man with a dark beard and dark, gleaming eyes full of
fiendish hatred. The man was intent of doing something to
him.

'Why don’t you begin?' he found himself asking.

‘It’s all over/ a voice then said, and Carnegie was conscious
of the most excruciating pain. He asked for something to re¬
lieve it, and the nurse gave him a pill. He asked for another,
but she shook her head—‘I cannot give you more/

*Oh, hell, I can’t bear it/ he pleaded. 'You must,’ she said.
‘Be patient.’

Her voice weakened and faded away. His brain cleared. He
recognized his surroundings—the cubicle. He was still in it.
The pain had ceased but he retained a vivid, none too pleasant
recollection of it.

He later spoke about the incident to one of the nurses, and
she asked, 'Was this in Ward D?’

‘Yes,’ Carnegie told her.

*39

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

‘I thought it was,’ she said.

He asked her why, but she would not tell him, and he did
not find out until he had left St. Giles. He then heard that
Ward D in the hospital was well known to be haunted.

He discovered that about twelve years before he went to
St. Giles there were two doctors, Mackie and McGowan, an
anaesthetist. Both men were in love with Hilda Reid, a very
pretty, petite blonde. They had been friends but rivalry made
them foes. When Mackie was knocked down by a car and
seriously injured, he was put in Ward D at St. Giles, and an
important operation was found to be necessary. A surgeon in
the hospital named Warren undertook it. McGowan admini¬
stered the anaesthetic. He overdid it purposely and deliber¬
ately murdered Mackie—the perfect crime. He then married
Hilda Reid and left St. Giles with her.

It was after McGowan's death—he met with a fatal accident
several days after his marriage—that all came out, and that
Ward D, which Mackie had occupied, began to be haunted.

140

THE PHANTOM TRUMPETER OF FYVIE

Few castles have figured as often in the ghost-lore of Scotland
as Fyvie Castle in Aberdeenshire. Of the ancient Scottish
baronial type of architecture, it was built during the latter
part of the fourteenth century, probably on the site of a much
earlier castle, in a wooded valley encircled by undulating hills.

It passed eventually into the possession of Sir Henry Preston
of Craigmillar, who distinguished himself at the battle of
Otterburn. Sir Henry, in order to enlarge his domain,
demolished a neighbouring monastery and used the stones he
took from it to add a tower, known afterwards as the Preston,
to Fyvie Castle. During the transference of the stones from
the monastery ruins to the castle three of them fell into the
nearby river.

It was about this time that Thomas the Rhymer, Scotland’s
most prolific prophet and curser, came to the castle one day
and solicited a night's shelter. Sir Henry would not admit him,
and had the great gate of the castle shut in his face. From all
accounts Thomas was very hasty tempered and quick to take
offence. Full of indignation at being treated so inhospitably
he stood in front of the castle and pronounced one of the curses
for which he was so renowned.

A violent storm of rain and wind burst over the castle and
grounds while Thomas was speaking, but round the spot where
he stood there was a dead calm and the ground remained per¬
fectly dry. This was regarded by the awed spectators as sure
proof that Thomas was under supernatural protection and
that no harm would or could befall him.

Thomas declared that until the three stones had been re¬
covered the Fyvie property would never descend in the direct
line for more than two generations.

Two of the stones were recovered, but the third was never
found. Owing to a quantity of moisture being constantly found

141

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

on one of the recovered stones, no matter how dry and warm
the weather, the castle was sometimes styled the Castle of the
Weeping Stone, weeping on account of the missing stone.

The curse Thomas pronounced is said to have worked until
comparatively recent times.

Sir Henry Preston had only one child, a girl. She married
a Meldrum, and on Sir Henry's death Fyvie passed into the
possession of the Meldrum family. They did not own it long,
for in 1596 they sold it to Alexander Seton, third son of George,
Sixth Lord Seton. He was created Lord Fyvie and Earl of
Dunfermline,

The Setons had an exceptionally honourable family history
and were renowned for their loyalty to their sovereign, but, like
Sir Henry Preston and the Meldrums, they would seem to have
been under some kind of a blight while they remained in Fyvie
Castle. This was believed to be owing to Thomas the Rhymer's
curse.

The estate was forfeited when the fourth Lord Fyvie
espoused the Jacobite cause and fought for the old Pretender.
It was sold in 1726 to William, the Second Earl of Aberdeen,
who bequeathed it to his son by his third wife, Lady Anne
Gordon, sister of Lord Lewis Gordon, I understand that their
descendants in the direct line died out some years ago.

There would seem to be some doubt as to when the tradi-
tional haunting of Fyvie Castle by the famous Phantom
Trumpeter actually began, though it was during the
eighteenth century. There are several versions of the tragic
happenings that are popularly thought to have occasioned the
haunting.

According to one of these versions, Andrew Lammie, a
trumpeter in the service of the then owner of Fyvie, fell in love
with Agnes Smith, daughter of a well-to-do local miller. Owing
to the parents of Agnes strongly disapproving of her marrying
a poor trumpeter, she and her lover used to meet clandestinely.

Unfortunately for Andrew he had a formidable rival in the
Laird of Fyvie, who wanted Agnes for his mistress. The Laird,
who was informed of the clandestine meetings of the lovers.

142

THE PHANTOM TRUMPETER OF FYVIE

had Andrew seized, taken on board a ship and transported
as a slave to the West Indies,

After several years Andrew luckily effected his escape and
came back to Scotland. He at once sought Agnes, but was told
she had died of a broken heart. The shock of her death proved
too much for Andrew in his enfeebled state of health and he
died too. On his death bed he cursed the Laird of Fyvie and
swore that always before the death of a Gordon of Fyvie his
trumpet would be heard either within or immediately without
the castle walls.

According to another version of the story, the parents of
Agnes Smith, angry with her for loving Andrew Lammie and
rejecting the advances of the Laird of Fyvie, caused her death.
But in spite of the harsh measures adopted by them, she put
love and poverty before wealth and position and ever remained
faithful to her poor despised sweetheart.

The story of her love for Andrew is immortalized in the well
known Aberdeenshire ballad, 'Mill O' Tifty's Annie \ The
poet has substituted the name Annie for that of her real name,
Agnes. The following verses are taken from the ballad:

'Fyvie lands lie braid and wide.

And oh, but they be bonny I
But I wadna gie my ain true-love
For a* the lands in Fyvie,

'But mak my bed and lay me down.

And tarn my face to Fyvie
That I may see before I die,

My bonny Andrew Lammie.

They made her bed, and laid her down.

And turned her face to Fyvie
She gave a groan, and died or morn.

She ne'er saw Andrew Lammie.

The Laird of Fyvie he went hame.

And he was sad and sorry;

Says ‘The bonniest lass O' the country-side
Has died for Andrew Lammie.'

*43

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Oh, Andrew's gane to the house-top
O' the bonny house O* Fyvie;

He's biawn his horn baith loud and shrill
O'er the lowland lass of Fyvie.

'Love pines away, loved wines away.

Love—love decays the body;

For the love O' thee, now I maun dee;

I come, my bonny Annie.'

And with those words he died,

A stone effigy on the summit of one of the castle’s turrets
is thought to represent Andrew Lammie, whose trumpet
points in the direction of a monument erected in Fyvie kirk-
yard in memory of Agnes Smith,

It was soon after the death of Andrew Lammie that the
haunting of Fyvie by a phantom believed to be his is said to
have begun. For many years before the death of a Gordon of
Fyvie the harrowing blast of a trumpet was heard in the dead
of night, and the tall, menacing, shadowy figure of a man clad
in a picturesque tartan was seen either within the castle walls
or in close proximity to them.

Andrew's ghost was not, however, the only phantom that
periodically visited Fyvie Castle. The ghost of a lady wearing
a green dress was rumoured to appear at various times.

Issuing from a room known as the Haunted Chamber, she
walked or rather glided through the winding passages and
panelled rooms, ascending and descending the winding stair¬
case, and, returning to the Haunted Chamber, disappeared in
it with alarming abruptness. Who she was in her lifetime is
not definitely known.

*44

THE PHANTOM RIDER

Queer, inexplicable things occasionally happen in the hunt¬
ing field. They happened on the famous Dingborough Hunt.
My friend Harry Martin, when he was living in Blankshire,
joined the Dingborough. Harry, who was not quite thirty, held
a commission in the Yeomanry, and though a good rider, was
inclined to be a little too risky at times.

It was when he was with the hounds one day in February
that a strange thing happened.

The pack met at Gilsby. It was fine when they started, but
after they had run a fox down it became foggy, and they
decided not to go on. One by one all the members of the hunt
rode off, and Martin found himself alone. In clear weather he
would not have minded, but in a fog and in a locality he did
not know too well, he anticipated difficulty in getting home—
a distance of twelve miles or more.

He was riding along disconsolate but trying to be cheerful,
when he saw a little way ahead of him, riding in the same
direction, a misty figure on a black or dark horse. He followed
the rider, glad to have a companion in distress. By degrees the
fog cleared, until he was able to see the rider very distinctly.
It was a woman, a brunette, but to his surprise she was dressed
in the picturesque costume of ages past.

Wondering who on earth she could be in such outlandish
dothes he called to her, but there was no reply. Looking
around him he could not see any familiar objects, and he
realized with no little annoyance that he had lost his way. On
and on rode the woman ahead; he shouted, and she must have
heard him, but she still made no response, never once turning
her head.

An eerie feeling came over him. She did not seem real, and
the stillness and sense of isolation was so acute.

It was growing dusk. The woman quickened her speed, and
Martin did the same, but without getting any nearer to her—
always they were the same distance apart. Ahead of him the

K

145

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

ground sloped, and the speed of both riders increased. Martin
tried to rein his horse in but could not, it was as if the other
horse magnetized it.

They were tearing now, the wind whirring in his ears, when
ahead of them he saw to his horror a gaping pit. The woman
rode straight for it. On reaching it she looked round, and for
the first time he saw her face—white and lovely. She smiled
at him, waved, and, signalling him to follow, leaped on horse¬
back into the yawning chasm.

With a frantic effort he tore himself free of the saddle and
crashed to the ground as his horse, never pausing, plunged
madly forward over the brink, into the depths below. Dazed,
Martin picked himself up—a few more feet and he would
have been over the edge, He peered down but could see noth¬
ing-only blackness. He hurried away, and after some hours
finally got to his destination, more dead than alive.

His story awoke interest, and he learned an explanation of
what he had experienced. The locality of the pit was tradi¬
tionally reputed to be haunted.

In the seventeenth century, living in the vicinity of the
Dingborough Hunt were the Leeches, a new rich family. They
had only very recently come to that part of the country. They
had one child, Emily, a dark haired beauty, and among her
many admirers was Robert Hunt, the only son of a widow.
Robert, an unsophisticated youth of twenty, first saw Emily at
a meet of the Dingborough, and fell violently in love with her.
She encouraged his affections; his country manners and raw¬
ness amused her. But he was just her plaything, someone with
whom to pass the idle moments till Lord Hartley, the man she
wished to marry, returned from abroad. When he did, she
gave the cold shoulder to Robert, and laughed in his face when
he stammered that he loved her.

Bitterly grieved, Robert threw himself into the pit and was
fatally injured. Before he died he cursed Emily, and declared
that she would haunt the locality of the pit till Doomsday.

It was her ghost that Harry Martin must have seen; an
apparition as beautiful as she was evil.

146

MY NIGHT IN OLD WHITTLEBURY FOREST

When about to begin one of my nocturnal investigations I am
not infrequently asked if I am feeling psychic—if I feel that
I may see or hear something supernatural, or sense something
hypernormal in the atmosphere of the place. Well, on the
Thursday night of my arrival at Black House, some thirty
miles from Northampton, I neither felt or sensed anything
untoward.

The weather conditions, however, struck me as being dis¬
tinctly favourable for a psychic manifestation of some kind.
In my experiences in a variety of climates I have found that
it is on nights when the weather is disturbed, as for example,
when there is a thunderstorm, or it is very windy and raining
hard, or at the other extreme when it is exceptionally fine and
still, and the moon is full, that ghostly phenomena are most
likely to occur. Also, I believe ghostly manifestations are
largely dependent on the time of year, the late summer and
early autumn being rather more conducive to them than any
other period. Hence the conditions on that September night
at Black House, when a strong wind moaned and whistled
through the tree tops and set all the windows and doors jarring,
were certainly in favour of my visit.

1 had been told that the phantom of a man had been seen
in various parts of the house, sometimes smoking a phantom
pipe, when the smell of tobacco was distinctly noticeable, but
beyond that I had heard little or nothing; consequently no
stories about the place were running in ray mind and I could
rule out all possibility of suggestion.

Soon after my arrival at the house, while my two hostesses
stood talking with my companions from the local newspaper,
I got my first impressions. I suddenly sensed very strongly the
presence of oak trees and stags, I mentioned this and learned
for the first time that the house stood on ground that had once

>47

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

formed part of old Whittlebury Forest, which had abounded
in oak trees and harboured many stags.

As the night was well advanced we began our sitting.

None of us being orthodox spiritualists we did not form a
circle but individually found the first convenient seat. We
sat in darkness and in silence. The outdoor conditions kept
favourable; every now and then gusts of wind howled like a
host of lost souls round and round the house.

Suddenly I was conscious of a curious change in the atmos¬
phere of the room. A new element seemed to have entered it
and intermingled with it, one that was very eerie. 1 was trying
to diagnose this change when I felt a strong psychic current
sweep past me in the direction of the door leading into the
garden, close to which one of our hostesses. Miss H, was sitting.
The change in the atmosphere at once became clearer; there
was with us some elemental presence, something of the semi¬
human, semi-animal species that is associated with trees and
forests.

At my request, one of our party had brought a dog with
him, as dogs, in my opinion, are sure psychic barometers, in¬
variably making some kind of demonstration when anything
supernatural is at hand. My companion’s dog now started to
bark aggressively, as if there was something near at hand that
it very strongly resented.

Through the window overlooking the front garden facing
me 1 saw a leadenish blue light, or rather glow. It lasted a few
seconds then gradually faded away. Other members of the
party also saw luminary phenomena, but through a glass door
that led to another part of the house. Some of these lights were
in the form of a crescent and others a triangle.

During the whole time that these phenomena were mani¬
festing intense excitement prevailed, a general thrill shared
not only by my friend's dog but by several dogs belonging to
the house, and located in various parts of it, for one and all
began to bark savagely. When the lights eventually dis¬
appeared and the dogs became silent we relit the lamps.

We then related our respective experiences. Some of us

148

MV NIGHT IN OLD WHITTLEBURY FOREST

had heard ghostly footsteps moving about the premises, others
had heard uncanny whistling; while there were those who had
seen and heard nothing. I asked Miss H if she had been cons¬
cious of the psychic current that had swept past me, and she
said she had. She had felt something very unusual and un¬
pleasant suddenly approach her. She was quite sure that it
was not the spirit of the smoker; she had seen him in the room
directly afterwards but he was friendly. She thought that the
phenomenon must be one of the numerous psychic entities
that sometimes haunted the immediate vicinity of the house
but which rarely entered it.

One of the other sitters told me afterwards that she was hold¬
ing one of Miss H's hands at the time and could feel Miss H
trembling violently.

After a short interval we sat in the darkness again. This time
I, too, heard the uncanny whistling; it was just as if someone
was standing by the window whistling to an animal and it was
followed by the sound of faraway horse's hooves. The sounds
drew rapidly nearer and seemed to pass through the room,
dying gradually away in the distance. Directly afterwards I
heard rautterings and whisperings. Then silence.

After a time Miss H relit the lamp and asked if anyone had
heard the sounds of a horse in the room. I and several others
told her that we had. She then informed us that she and Miss
D had often heard the sounds of a horse tearing through the
room, always at the same hour, namely two o'clock in the morn¬
ing, the very time 1 had heard the sounds.

The sitting, which ended as dawn broke, had been successful
in that it corroborated the statement of the two women. Miss H
and Miss D, that Black House was really haunted. I afterwards
looked up the history and traditions relative to Whittlebury
Forest and found that the locality has throughout long cen¬
turies borne the reputation of being haunted.

One of the apparitions is that of a headless horseman, whose
appearance is regarded as a portent of misfortune, even death.
Happily no one saw the horseman that night. It is said to be

»49

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

more often seen in the lanes and fields in the neighbourhood
of Black House.

A phantom lady is also said to haunt the site of old Whittle-
bury Forest as a punishment for her cruel treatment of one
of her lovers. She is nocturnally hunted by a phantom hunts¬
man and a pack of spectral hounds. It is this particular haunt¬
ing that is said to have suggested to Dryden his poem of
Theodore and Honoria.

150

THE FOURTH TREE IN THE AVENUE

One autumn evening four men sat in a room in a house in
the Midlands. They were all members of a psychical research
society, and among them was my friend Dr. Leonard Smyth.
All they knew about the house was that it was rumoured to
be badly haunted; they knew nothing specific.

It was eleven o'clock when they began the sitting, and it
was not until nearly one o'clock that anything occurred.
Smyth's dog Prince growled, and drew close to his master. A
board in the room creaked and quivered, and there was a
swelling on the floor.

The swelling grew and presently an aperture appeared. The
four men gazed at it in fearful anticipation as something dark
showed in the hole. It rose very slowly out of the floor—a head,
the head of a woman with long, dishevelled dark hair, big,
glossy dark eyes, and a corpse-like face, grey and drawn. The
face of the long dead.

The four men gazed at it in horror, but more was to follow.
Little by little the body of the woman rose to view, holding in
her arms a dead baby. Rising completely out of the hole, the
woman, carrying her ghastly child, glided noiselessly out of the
room. From the distance came the banging of a door—then
silence.

The four shaken men rose, took a sip of brandy, and left the
house, feeling that they had had enough of ghostly horrors for
one night.

They breathed freer in the open air. Outside the house a
carriage drive led to an avenue of magnificent old trees. The
four men entered the avenue and stopped at the fourth tree.
Something made them halt there, a compelling sense, and
they all experienced a wave of evil well from the tree. Al¬
though it was a calm night with no wind, the branches of

* 5 '

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

the tree were moving restlessly to and fro, and a vague shadow
dangled momentarily from one of the branches.

When it was gone, the spell that had glued the men to the
spot in front of the tree released them, and they went on to
their respective destinations, satisfied that there was decided
truth in the rumour that the house and grounds were haunted.
The traditional story of the haunting they ferreted out after¬
wards.

They learned that in the eighteenth century. Squire Arnold
had lived in the house. He engaged a housekeeper, Mary Anne
Giles, young and attractive, and had no difficulty in seducing
her. She then had a child. Tiring of her, the squire murdered
both mother and child and buried the bodies under the floor
of the room where the four men had sat.

The disappearance of the woman gradually became known,
and a party of people set out to search the house. Arnold
learned of their coming and, full of terror and remorse, hanged
himself from the fourth tree in the avenue.

152

A NIGHT VIGIL AT CHRISTCHURCH

Many people will remember the sensation caused in the neigh¬
bourhood of Bournemouth by the murder of Mr. Rattenbury,
and the subsequent suicide of his clever and beautiful widow
in a pool of the River Avon.

It was the hearing of rumours of ghostly happenings, sup¬
posedly arising from the widow’s death, that led to my hold¬
ing a vigil on a night in October, 1935, at the scene of her un¬
happy ending.

The morning of the day I selected for the vigil was very wet,
but the weather improved later in the day. I arrived at Christ¬
church about noon and at once made inquiries concerning
the rumours. The evening was well advanced when I eventu¬
ally set out on my errand, armed with nothing more formid¬
able than a thick stick and a torch. The spot where Mrs.
Rattenbury had destroyed herself the previous June was a
kind of backwater of the Avon, in a lonely meadow about 300
yards from a lane and dose to some railway arches.

One of the stories I had heard was that a woman cyding
along the lane one evening a few weeks before had heard a
series of cries coming from the direction, so she thought, of
the arches. There was something so unearthly and altogether
unusual about the cries that she got off her bicyde at once and
stood by a wooden gate leading into a meadow skirting the
lane and facing the distant river.

By the railway embankment and arches was a shed, and as
the woman stood listening she saw a blue light suddenly ap¬
pear over this shed and then come towards her. As it drew
nearer it took the form of a very tall person, wearing a shroud.
No face was visible, but there was something so awesome about
the figure, especially in the long strides it took, that the woman
became terrified and, jumping on her cyde, pedalled fran¬
tically away.

153

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Another story was said to have originated with a railway
employee, who, when walking along the embankment one
night, saw something very bright on the river bank. He
climbed down to get a closer look, and to his surprise saw that
it was a knife. On his approaching, the knife vanished, and
he then noticed a commotion in the water. In one spot the
water was whirling round and round, like a miniature whirl¬
pool. Then, suddenly, it grew still, and out of it rose a hand.
It was a very white hand with rather long, slender fingers, on
one of which Hashed and sparkled a ring. For some seconds
the fingers clutched the air convulsively, and then the hand
sank out of sight. The railwayman, who had all this time stood
rooted to the ground with shock, now took to his heels, con¬
vinced that it was no human being he had seen in the whirl¬
pool.

These were not altogether nice stories to remember when
I was padding the lane alone, but they would keep coming
back to me; and I remembered also a third, the story of a
cyclist who, when riding along the lane one night, soon after
the Rattenbury tragedy, had, on getting near the embank¬
ment, seen a woman, young and smartly dressed, walking
alongside him. Although he increased his speed, it made no
difference; she still kept abreast of him, apparently without
increasing her pace, and this continued for some little dis¬
tance, when suddenly she quite inexplicably vanished. Three
nights following he had the same experience, and always in
that particular part of the road; but on none of these occasions
could he ever see the woman's face with any degree of clear¬
ness. It always seemed to be hidden by a mist, though the rest
of her, her arms, legs and body, stood out with startling dis¬
tinctiveness. After the third night he is said never to have seen
her again. 1 thought of this story whenever a cyclist came
along.

As the night lengthened and the traffic grew less and less,
till it practically ceased, a feeling of intense eeriness came over
me. Later, as I came to a halt by a gate, which I imagined
was the gate from which the woman had seen the shrouded

*54

A NIGHT VIGIL AT CHRISTCHURCH

figure. I was conscious of a feeling of intense sadness. It came
upon me quite suddenly, a terrible sadness that seemed due
not to anything hitherto associated with me in any way, but
to the surroundings—to something connected with what I
saw; the long, lone railway embankment, with three gaping
arches, the solitary hut, the great stretch of unkempt grass,
flecked with stunted and oddly fashioned trees and the dikes
of water, whose surface gleamed in the starlight.

I suddenly felt that something was coming along the lane.
I say felt, because 1 saw and heard nothing, yet I was certain, as
certain as I have been about anything in my life, that something
had entered into the darkness of the night and was drawing
near me. Nearer and nearer it drew, a nameless presence, one
that brought with it increasing sadness. It came right up to me.
I was conscious of it standing by my side looking at me, trying
to read my innermost thoughts. I sensed beauty appertaining
to it, beauty and youth, but not happiness or goodness; yet I
felt it was not wholly evil. It passed on and left me, and with
its departure I was no longer sad.

I left the gate and walked towards Rotten Row, but I had
not gone far before I stopped—I felt I had to. I was near an
isolated tree growing close to the laneside. A black mist rose
out of the ground near a tree—I have never seen anything so
unpleasantly black. I had not felt afraid when I had the ex¬
perience near the gate, but I fell uneasy now.

The mist crept slowly towards me, indescribably sinister.
I felt impelled to go back to the gate. When I got there a feel-
came over me that I must drown myself. The river had sud¬
denly become a magnet. No longer dark and cold, it seemed
now to give out light, a light that was most alluring and seduc¬
tive; the light drew me on and I had to fight desperately to
keep where I was and prevent myself succumbing to its fatal
influence, which I instinctively associated with the mist. Then
suddenly all desire to drown myself ceased.

Feeling that nothing further would occur, I now came away,
to learn later that others had experienced some of the strange
things I experienced there, in particular that terrible desire

*55

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

to drown oneself in the spot where Mrs. Rattenbury ended her
life.

Is her spirit at rest? Some think not. 1 keep asking myself,
was that sad presence hers? Did something draw her to the
riverside as something tried to draw me, and was it that sinister
black mist?

You must form your own conclusions on these strange hap¬
penings which are described exactly as they occurred.

156

THE HAUNTED STREAM

In Warwickshire there is a stream, deep in places, which in
former days supplied a mill long disused with water.

In the nineties of the last century there was a family named
Burton living in a house about half a mile from the stream;
Mrs. Burton, an elderly widow, and two girls. Rose and
Phoebe. Mrs. Burton, who had married late in life, was attrac¬
tive at fifty and both the girls were very pretty. Rose being
dark and Phoebe fair.

Rose was secretary to a rich man, and Phoebe a manicurist
in a beauty salon. They were very fond of dancing and went
on Saturday evenings to a dancehall in Birmingham about
ten miles from Camly, where they lived. They went by train,
as there were no motor vehicles in those days.

It was at the dancehall that they met a young man named
Renton, the son of a brewer. He was tall, handsome and
wealthy. The girls fell in love with him, and became rivals.

Renton preferred Phoebe, and they were engaged, but a
dreadful tragedy prevented them marrying. Phoebe was
drowned in the stream. How she got in the stream was a
mystery; it was supposed that she fell in when returning from
the dancehall—possibly she had drunk a little too freely.

It was two years after the tragedy that my friend Brian
Richards went to live in Camly.

Mrs. Burton was dead. Rose had married Renton, sold the
house, which her mother left her, and gone to live in France
after divorcing her husband. The Waverley, the house where
the Burtons had lived, had become a boarding house. Brian
stayed there. It was kept by Mrs. Wills, a widow, and there
were three servants who slept in the house: Mabel, the cook,
and Emma and Lucy, the maids. Lucy Hart came daily, and
a youth named Percy to clean shoes and do various outdoor

>57

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

jobs. It was a very well run house. Everything had to be done
as Mrs. Wills wished, in strict order, no idling.

All went smoothly with Brian the first week he was in the
house. It was on the following Monday that something strange
happened. He was on the landing of the first floor when, think¬
ing that someone was calling him, he leaned over the balus¬
trade and looked down. A girl in a pink dress was in the hall,
a very pretty girl with flaxen hair and blue eyes. She was
carrying a bunch of flowers, and he noticed a gold ring on one
of her fingers. Her cheeks were very pale. Crossing the hall
she entered the sitting-room.

Brian, who was strongly attracted by the girl, entered the
room immediately after her, but she was not there, the room
was empty. Yet there was only the one door and the lofty
window was open only at the top.

Much puzzled he asked Mrs. Wills who the girl was. She
did not know; there was no such person in her house, she said.

The next day about the same time Brian and Mr. Taylor, a
fellow boarder, both saw the girl in pink cross the hall and enter
the sitting-room. They told Mrs. Wills and she then confessed
that the house was haunted. She begged them not to mention
the ghost to the servants, or they would all leave. The two men
had little choice but to promise not to say a word to anyone.

That evening Brian was brushing his hair at the dressing-
table in his room when he saw reflected in the mirror a girl
open the door and peer into the room—a girl with dark hair
and eyes, who would have been very good looking but for her
pallor and expression, which was clouded with hate. The
reflection only lasted a few moments and he then saw only
himself again. But the look of hatred in the girl's eyes haunted
him, it was so diabolical.

Nothing further happened for some days. Then, one even¬
ing after dinner, he had another strange experience. He was
walking along a lonely lane leading to the river, a distance of
nearly half a mile from the house, when someone went by him.

It was the girl in pink. This time, however, she wore a green
dress, and as she walked ahead of him he noticed something

158

THE HAUNTED STREAM

filmy and unreal about her that he had not observed before.
She kept ahead of him to the stream. Close to the bank of it
was a bush. She had just reached the bush when an invisible
someone jumped out of it on to her. There was a cry of sur¬
prise and terror, followed by sounds of a desperate struggle
between visible and invisible* a splash and the girl in green
was in the water. As she sank, a white hand wearing a gold
ring appeared above the surface of the stream clutching the
air.

Throughout the swiftly enacted incident Brian felt as if
he was witnessing something in a dream, yet his senses told
him that it had actually happened—that he had been present
at a battle of hate which had ended in murder.

What happened to Rose Burton, in France, was never
known in Camly. The stream by the bush is still haunted.

*59

THE CASTLE TERRORS

Ireland is traditionally and primarily the land of the O's and
Mc's, and most of the reputed haunted castles have belonged
to one or other of those dans*

The picturesque ruins of Dunluce Castle, on a cliff in Ire¬
land, are said to be haunted by the spirit of the original owner,
who for his crimes was doomed to remain earthbound, Dun-
severick Castle in Antrim is similarly haunted*

The old O'Neills of Tyrone, one of whose descendants is
the Count O'Neill of Portugal, have, like my line of the
O'Donnells, a banshee, which used to appear at Shane Castle*
She was very lovely, and confined her advents to one room.
Should she be seen merely paring silently to and fro, her
appearance boded no ill, but if she was seen wringing her
hands or heard singing, her presence was a portent of some
grievous catastrophe to a member of the clan. One of the
O'Neills heard her voice prior to setting out on a long journey,
A few days later he was killed.

The ancient Shane Castle was destroyed by fire in or about
1816 *

An O’Flaherty of Galway was marching out of his castle one
night on a foraging expedition, when he heard his traditional
banshee singing sadly on one of the castle turrets. The fol¬
lowing night his wife heard the banshee, and a few days later
her husband's followers brought back his body; he had been
killed by a member of a dan with which he had a feud.

On another occasion more than one banshee was heard sing¬
ing at the castle of the O'FIahertys prior to the death of the
wife of the clan chief.

The mins of Ross Castle, Killarney, are rumoured to be
haunted by the ghost of the O’Donohoe, Every few years in
the dead of night he emerges from Ross Castle on his famous
white horse, accompanied by his male and female followers,

160

THE CASTLE TERRORS

and rides three times round the lake of Killarney, That done,
he returns with his retinue to the castle, and is seen no more
for another decade.

Moving to Wales, in Brecknockshire are the ruins of Builth
Castle, According to a traditional story, Llywelyn II of
Gruffydd, the last actual Prince of Wales, came to Builth as a
last resource, supposing it to be held by his friends. He rode
there in the snow, having taken the precaution to have his
horse shod backwards, so as to mislead any of his enemies who
might be on his track* But he was refused admittance to the
castle, and the blacksmith who shod his horse gave information
to the English,

As Llywelyn returned, dejected and sore at heart, he was
set upon and killed by Adam Francton, who was ignorant of his
rank. Learning whom he had slain, Francton obtained per¬
mission to cut off the prince’s head, and it was sent to Edward
I at Rhuddlan, to be afterwards carried through the streets
of London, while the body was buried at crossroads near the
spot, which still bears the name of Cefynn-y-Bedd Llywelyn—
’The ridge of Llywelyn’$ grave’.

The ruins of Builth Castle and the crossroads are both
rumoured to be haunted, from time to time, by some of the
spectres and unearthly sounds peculiar to Wales,

No counties in England or Wales are more haunted than
Glamorganshire and Pembrokeshire. St, Donat's Castle in Pem¬
brokeshire is reputed to have been haunted for many years by
a phantom in white, believed to be the ghost of a Lady Strad-
ling. And Gideon Shaddoe wrote in the last century about a
castle in Glamorganshire that numbered among its several
ghosts the phantom of a mail-clad hand and arm, which he
saw one day thrust out of a window far beyond the ivy-dad
wall of the ancient building. The bell of a church near the
castle had been heard to toll "of itself on Hallowe'en.

Many wrecks have taken place off the rocky coast of
Glamorganshire; after one of them, in which an evil local
landowner was drowned, a black coach with four spectral
horses was seen to drive from the seashore to his mansion. The

r 61

L

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

coach was believed to contain the spirit of the drowned man,
who for his many crimes was doomed to haunt the mansion
and neighbouring countryside till the Day of Judgment.

A weird story is told of Linlithgow Palace in Scotland. One
night in 1539 King James V cried out for torches, and on
his attendants rushing into his chamber, he told them he had
seen the ghost of the Laird of Balvearie. ‘He came to me,’
James said, ‘and addressed me thus: "Oh, woe to the day that
ever I knew thee or thy service; for serving of thee against God,
against his servants, and against justice 1 am adjudged to end¬
less torture.” ’

The laird died that night in his home, and the people who
were with him affirmed that he had said those very words as
the king had heard them in Linlithgow.

Dumbarton Castle has a much later ghost. During the
seventies of the last century the two daughters of a captain,
who was for years in command of the staff division stationed
at the fort, were standing one moonlight night at the window
commanding a view of the terrace, above which the sentry
on duty had to walk. Suddenly one of the girls exclaimed:
'See, the sentry out there is pacing to and fro but he has no
head! 1 The other sister looked out and saw a tall, headless
man in an old-world uniform.

The next day, on the girls mentioning to friends what they
had seen, they were told that the headless sentry at Dumbarton
Castle had been a known fact in the county for hundreds of
years.

The Castle of Duntulm was at one time reputed to be
haunted by the ghost of Donald Gorm, who used to terrify
the inmates by slamming doors, tramping up and down stair¬
cases, and making unearthly groans and cries. The disturbances
did not cease until a young man sat up alone in the castle one
night and, when the ghost of Donald Gorm appeared, arrayed
in the tartan of his clan, the Macdonalds, spoke to it and
learned the reason for it haunting the castle.

Dunstaffnage Castle, long in ruins, is said to have been
haunted by a glaistig that, before the death of a member of

THE CASTLE TERRORS

the clan owning the place, used to wail in the building and
tread along the passages and rooms, pulling the clothes from
the beds of some of the sleepers, with dismal moans and
cries.

Unlike the banshees of Ireland, the glaistigs of Scotland
not only attach themselves to certain families but also to caves
and streams and beaches. They vary in appearance, as do the
Irish banshees. Some of them are old and withered, others
very lovely, with long, golden hair and blue eyes. Sleat Castle,
Breacacha Castle, the ruins of Mearnaig Castle and several
other castles are all reputed to have been haunted at times by
glaistigs.

A weird true story is told of a castle in the Hebrides. It is
situated on a diff and close to a mansion. Both buildings

belong to a branch of the M-s. The castle is in ruins. One

Christmas in the seventies of the last century the M-s gave

a ball, and among the dancers were a Miss Ross and young
M„ the second son of the laird, who was in the Royal Navy.

When the dawn had broken Miss Ross and young M., who
had been dancing together, walked to the castle ruins. Miss
Ross was suddenly startled on seeing a girl, whom she took at
first to be one of the other guests, gazing at her through what
appeared to be an inaccessible window.

‘Do look at that silly Maud Grey,’ she said, ‘she will be
killed if she does not take care,’ and she ran towards her,
pulling her companion with her.

When she got close to the girl she saw she was not Maud
Grey, but a young girl dressed entirely in white, with long
fair hair falling over her shoulders, and having on her right
arm a broad silver bracelet of curious design. The girl regarded
Miss Ross fixedly for a moment, and then disappeared.

‘Good heavens!' Miss Ross cried. ‘She has fallen over the
rocks/

She ran to the window and looked out, but no traces of the
girl were visible: indeed, no human being could have scaled
the steep, precipitous crags on that side of the ruins. Miss
Ross looked at her companion; he was very pale and silent.

163

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

On their way back to the house they met Maud Grey. She
had never been near the ruins*

'Who could the girl have been?' Miss Ross asked young M*

‘Don't mention her to any of the family/ M* replied* 1 will
tell you who I think she was, but first let me ask if you noticed
the bracelet on the girl's arm*'

'I did/ Miss Ross exclaimed, and described it to him.

M* became even paler and said: ‘You have seen our evil
family ghost* Her history is this: one of my ancestors and the
heir of the M's fell deeply in love with a beautiful peasant
girl. They became engaged and were about to be married,
when the girl suddenly disappeared and was never heard of
again* It was supposed she had been murdered by one of his
relations, who was furious at the thought of him marrying a
girl of such humble birth* For very many years there were
preserved in our family two silver bracelets, such as you des¬
cribe, with which our chiefs betrothed their brides* One of
them had shortly before disappeared, and it was believed that
the infatuated youth had given it to the poor girl whom he
intended to marry*

'Ever since, we M-s have always been warned of an ap¬

proaching death by a fair-haired girl with this bracelet on her
arm*'

Young M* died soon after Miss Ross had seen the ghost,

164

THE HOUSE IN BERKELEY SQUARE

Probably no case of haunting in England has ever attracted
more attention than that which was alleged to take place at

No*- Berkeley Square* Berkeley Square lies in the very

heart of Mayfair, and consequently, when it was rumoured
chat a house in such a fashionable and highly aristocratic sur¬
roundings had a ghost and a very terrible one too, all society
at once become interested*

Lord Lyttelton wrote in ‘Notes and Queries' for November
16, 1872: 'It is quite true that there is a house in Berkeley

Square (No*-) said to be haunted, and long unoccupied

on that account. There are strange stories about it, into which
this deponent cannot enter.*

And seven years later 'Mayfair' magazine stated: ‘The
house in Berkeley Square contains at least one room of which
the atmosphere is supernaturally fatal to body and mind.'

For years the house continued to stand empty because of
the dreadful, uncanny things said to occur there. Few people
dared to pass it alone late at night*

Among the stories told me about the haunting is the follow¬
ing:

One bitterly cold night in December two sailors, named
Stephens and Carey, who had come from Southampton to
London on a week's furlough, having squandered all their
money found themselves penniless with nothing to eat and
nowhere to sleep*

After rambling forlornly along street after street, seeking
in vain an archway or alcove where they could rest and find
shelter from the icy wind, they came at length to Berkeley
Square, silent and deserted*

They were leaning against the railings of the Square garden
when Stephens suddenly said: 'Do you see that house over

165

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

yonder, matey? It’s to let. Why shouldn't we get in and do
a night on the boards?’

Carey at once agreed. He was desperately tired, and the
prospect of being able to lie down in the quiet somewhere,
even if it was only in a coalhole, appealed to him.

Biding their opportunity, when no one was about the two
seamen cautiously approached the house and slipped back the
latch of one of the windows, which to their joy and surprise
was not barred, and climbed into the house. Groping their
way along a dank, dark passage they bumped against banisters
and after a brief pause decided to venture aloft.

On reaching the second floor they decided to spend the night
in one of the back rooms. It was a trifle more dismal and
seemed in rather a worse condition than the other rooms they
had seen, but on the outside wall near the window there was
a pipe which could easily be got at should they be disturbed.

Feeling that a fire would be comforting they stole downstairs,
careful lest their footsteps might be heard next door. Not
finding any stray wood anywhere they broke up two or three
fixed drawers in the kitchen dresser and, returning to the
room they had chosen for the night, they soon had a fire. The
heat from it gradually made them drowsy and presently they
fell asleep.

They were abruptly roused by sounds in the lower part of
the house. As they sat up and listened, the sounds likened to
footsteps and began to ascend the stairs.

The footsteps might have been made with bare, fat feet,
there was a curious shuffling stealthiness about them. They
crossed the first floor landing and began to climb the stairs
to the second floor.

A great terror gripped the sailors. The steps at length came
on to the landing, approached the room and halted at the
door, the handle of which began slowly to turn. After a period
of agonizing suspense the two men saw the door slowly open
and something of indescribable horror, neither human nor
animal, appear on the threshold. As it moved stealthily to¬
wards the men the spell that had held them broke.

THE HOUSE IN BERKELEY SQUARE

Stephens made a dash to the window, but so great was his
terror that in grabbing at the water-pipe to climb down it he
missed and crashed to the ground. The injuries he received
were so severe that he died, but not before he was able to ex¬
plain what had happened. Carey was found by a policeman
early in the morning, roaming round and round the Square
quite insane.

There is another story of the haunting of No.-Berkeley

Square.

A family whom I will call Jarvice, on coming to London
one autumn took up residence in the house. After they had
been in it for some weeks one of the maids, happening to go
into the room in which the two sailors had suffered their har¬
rowing experience, was shortly afterwards heard screaming for
help. Fearing she was ill, Mrs. Jarvice ran to the room and
found the girl lying on the floor in a fit.

The maid never properly recovered, but from her rambling
statements it was inferred that her lamentable condition was
solely due to something very dreadful that she had seen in the
room. After this the room was kept locked, and no one ever
ventured within its precincts, till a friend of the Jarvices, a
Captain Raymond, who was engaged to one of the daughters,
hearing what had happened, begged to be allowed to sleep
there. He was so persistent that Mr. and Mrs. Jarvice finally
gave in to him, on condition, however, that some arrangement
was made by which he could summon aid if needed.

To this Raymond agreed, and it was decided that, in order
to let the family know that all was going well with him, he
should ring the bell by his bedside once every hour between
midnight and dawn; if, on the contrary, something amiss
should happen, and he should suddenly need help, he gave
his most solemn assurance he would ring the bell twice.

The chosen night arrived, and as the captain retired to the
room, the rest of the family, unknown to him, assembled to¬
gether in the hall, no one daring to go to bed.

Very slowly the minutes passed away until midnight drew
near. Then from afar off came the slow and measured chimes

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

o£ the church clock. Simultaneous with the third stroke a
bell gave a single, solitary tinkle, and everyone expressed them¬
selves immeasurably relieved.

Again there came a wait, and the minutes crept tediously
by with the family’s nerves full stretched. Reassurance came
from one of the Jarvice boys, who disclosed that the captain
had in his possession a big service six-shooter; he had asked
that no one be told about this in case they should be scared and
fancy he might shoot someone with it.

Then suddenly all heard the bell. This time a clang, as if
it had been pulled violently, then a slight pause, a very faint
tinkle, and the loud crack of a revolver, after which silence.

Amid frenzied cries from the women a wild rush was made
for the stairs, Mr. Jarvice leading the way, candle in one hand
and poker in the other, to be joined en route by the servants,
who came running down from their quarters on the top land¬
ing, with white and terrified faces.

On bursting into the room the family found Captain Ray¬
mond shot dead by his own revolver.

What terrible thing had forced his hand?

WILL O’-THE-WISP AND CORPSE CANDLES

One of the most familiar of 'ghosts’ to us all, perhaps, is Will-
o'-the-wisp or Jack-a-Lantern.

Descriptions of this phenomenon vary. It is usually des¬
cribed as resembling the light of a lantern, varying in colour;
sometimes leadenish blue, greenish or reddish, sometimes of
no distinct colour at all. It is said sometimes to hover about,
keeping close to the ground, while at other times it flits and
bounces about in the air, occasionally following people at a
distance.

According to one theory, Will-o’-the-wisp’s ‘haunting’ is
confined to marshy places, but this cannot be true. I have
spent nights on marshy ground on Exmoor and Dartmoor and
have never seen it; nor have I met any people in those localities
who have seen it, so that the idea of it being just a marsh gas
is erroneous.

Will-o’-the-wisp has also been said to be similar to the Welsh
Canhywllau Cyrch—Corpse Candles—but this is incorrect.
The corpse candles are invariably a portent of death, whereas
Will-o-the-wisp is of no specific significance.

Will-o’-the-wisp has also been likened to Ph3, phosphores¬
cent hydrogen, a gas exuding from decaying vegetable and
carnal matter, said to be seen at times in cemeteries, to which
it is apparently chiefly confined. This gas is seemingly some¬
times the colour of Will-o’-the-wisp, but that is about the only
peculiarity that the two have in common.

All gases have some heat and a characteristic smell but,
according to accounts of Will-o’-the-wisp, it is entirely with¬
out heat or odour. In short, it is a baffling mystery, a pheno¬
menon that has up to the present time never been satisfactorily
explained.

Turning to the traditional corpse candles of Wales, when
in various parts of Wales I have questioned people about these

169

THE SCREAMING SRULL5

phenomena but have never met anyone who has seen them,
though some have known people who have testified to seeing
them. Belief in the candles is still strong in certain localities.
The following account of them by the Rev. Mr. Davis is taken
from ‘News from the Invisible World 1 by T. Charley, pub¬
lished during the last century.

'We call them (the Canhywllau) candles because that light
doth resemble a material candle-light; saving that when one
comes near them they vanish; but presently appear again. If
it be a little candle, pale or bluish, then follows the corpse
either of an abortive, or some infant; if a big one, then the
corpse either of someone come of age; if there be seen two or
three or more, some big, some small, together, then so many
such corpses together. If two candles come from divers places,
and be seen to meet, the corpses will do the like; if any of these
candles be seen to turn, sometimes a little out of that leads to
the church, the following corpse will be found to turn in that
very place.

‘When I was about fifteen years of age, living at Llanylar,
late at night, some neighbours saw one of these corpse candles
hovering up and down along the bank of the river until they
were weary in beholding; at last they left it so, and went to
bed. A few weeks after a damsel from Montgomeryshire came
to see her friends who lived on the other side of the Istwyth,
and thought to ford it at the place where the light was
seen; but being dissuaded by some lookers on (by reason of a
flood) she walked up and down along the bank, where the
aforesaid candle did, waiting for the falling of the waters,
which at last she took and was drowned/

In a wild and retired district in North Wales the following
occurrence took place, to the great astonishment of the moun¬
taineers (reported in 'Frazer's Magazine’).

'We can vouch for the truth of the statement as many mem¬
bers of our own Teutu, or clan, were witnesses of the fact. On
a dark evening, a few years ago, some persons with whom we
are well acquainted were returning to Barmouth on the south
or opposite side of the river. As they approached the ferry-

170

WILL-O*-THE-W IS P AND CORPSE CANDLES

house at Penthryn, which is directly opposite Barmouth, they
observed a light near the house, which they conjectured to be
produced by a bonfire, and greatly puzzled they were the
reason why it should have been lighted. As they came nearer,
however, it vanished and when they inquired at the house
respecting it, they were surprised to learn that not only the
people there displayed no light, but they had not even seen
one; nor could they perceive any sign of it on the sands.

'On reaching Barmouth the circumstance was mentioned,
and the fact corroborated by some of the people there, who had
also plainly and distinctly seen the lights.

It was settled therefore by some of the old fishermen that
this was a "death-token”; and sure enough, the man who kept
the ferry at that time was drowned at high water a few nights
afterwards on the very spot where the light was seen. He was
landing from the boat when he fell into the water, and so
perished.

'The same winter the Barmouth people, as well as the in¬
habitants of the opposite banks, were struck by the appearance
of a number of small lights, which were seen dancing in the
air at a place called Borthwyn, about a mile from the town. A
great number of people came out to see these lights and after
a while they all but one disappeared, and this one proceeded
slowly towards the water's edge, to a little bay where some
boats were moored. The men in a sloop, which was anchored
near the spot, saw the light advancing—they also saw it hover
for a few seconds over one particular boat and then totally
disappear. Two or three days afterwards, the man to whom
that particular boat belonged was drowned in the river, while
he was sailing about Barmouth harbour in that very boat. We
have narrated these facts just as they occurred/

I have several other accounts of these phenomena, all of
them asserted to be authentic. Those who have seen them are
convinced they are prophetically supernatural, omens of com¬
ing ill, only experienced by people of genuine old Welsh
extraction.

Then there is the phenomenon of the churchyard ghost.

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

Herbert Mayo, M.D., in his book 'Popular Superstitions' pub¬
lished more than a hundred years ago quotes several cases of
phenomenal lights appearing in churchyards and other places
where people have been buried.

Here is one of the instances taken from ‘Archives*, a reliable
German book by P. Kieffer. The story was sent to Kieffer by
Herr Ehrman, who was told it by Herr Pfeffel, his father-in-
law,

A youth named Billing, who was a candidate for Orders,
had experienced sensorial illusions and was particularly sen*
skive to the presence of human remains, which made him
tremble and shudder in all his limbs. Pfeffel, who was partly
or wholly blind, was in the habit of holding the arm of Billing
when taking a daily walk in his garden near Colmar,

At one spot in the garden Pfeffel felt Billing give a sudden
start, as if he had received an electric shock. He asked Billing
if anything was the matter. ‘No, nothing/ Billing replied. But
on their going over the same spot again the same thing hap*
pened. Billing, now being pressed to explain the cause of it,
said that it arose from a peculiar sensation which he always
experienced when in the vicinity of human remains; that it
was his impression a human body must be interred there, but
that if Pfeffel would return with him at night he would be
able to speak with greater confidence.

Accordingly, they went together to the garden when it was
dark, and as they approached the spot Billing said he could see
a faint light over it. At ten paces from it he stopped and would
go no further, saying that he saw hovering over it, as if self-
supported in the air, its feet only a few inches from the ground,
a luminous female figure nearly five feet high, with the right
arm folded on her breast, the left hanging by her side. When
Pfeffel stepped forward and placed himself about where the
figure appeared to be, Billing declared it was now on his right
hand, now on his left, now behind, now before him. When
Pfeffel cut the air with his stick, it seemed as if it went through
and divided a light flame, which then united again. The ex¬
periment was repeated the next night, in company with some

172

W1 LL*0 -THE*WtSP AND CORPSE CANDLES

of PfeffePs relatives, and gave the same result. Only Billing
was conscious of the apparition, the others did not see any¬
thing,

Pfeffel then, unknown to Billing, had the ground dug up,
when was found at some depth, beneath a layer of quick-lime,
a human body in progress of decomposition. The remains were
removed and the earth carefully replaced. Three days after¬
wards Billing, from whom this whole proceeding had been
concealed, was again led to the spot by Pfeffel. He walked over
it without experiencing any unusual impression whatever.

Mayo, who was partly if not entirely a materialist, was seem¬
ingly in accordance with Prof. Von Reichenbach, a German
scientist, who believed in what Mayo termed the Gd force;
that is, a gas which is said to make itself visible as a dim light
or warning flame to highly sensitive subjects. Such persons,
according to Mayo and Reichenbach, see flames issuing from
the poles of magnets and crystal, one of the causes which
excites the evolution of the gas being chemical decomposition:
in other words, decaying bodies of human beings.

Von Reichenbach experimented with a Miss Reichel in a
cemetery near Vienna. Wherever Miss Reichel looked she saw
masses of flame, which manifested mostly about recent graves.
She described the appearance of the lights as resembling less
bright flames than fiery vapour, something between fog and
flames, the lights rising to four feet above the ground. Miss
Reichel did not apparently feel any heat exuding from the
flames when she put her hand in them.

Von Reichenbach, who had learned about PfeffePs experi¬
ments with Billing, concluded that the luminant phenomena
Billing declared he had seen in PfeffePs garden were due to
the same cause as those Miss Reichel said she saw in the
cemetery near Vienna. Pfeffel and Von Reichenbach appa¬
rently believed that all ghosts said to be seen in churchyards
were due to this natural gas.

But were they? Are they? If due to a natural gas, how is it
more people have not seen them? It is more credible to believe
that these alleged luminary phenomena in cemeteries may be

173

THE SCREAMING SKULLS

due to the supernatural. I have seen no satisfactory explana¬
tion yet stated as to why these ghostly Lights should be ap¬
parently restricted to places where dead humans are buried.
Why not dead animals? What hosts of these mysterious lights
would appear if they too were included I

Another luminant phenomenon is St. Elmo’s Fire, a light
said to be seen at sea, especially in southern climates, often
during thunderstorms. Of a light resembling a kind of star,
it has appeared at the top of masts of ships, spires, other pointed
objects, on the tops of trees, on the manes of horses, even occa¬
sionally on human heads.

Scientists, who of course believe all luminant phenomena
are due to a natural cause, believe that St. Elmo's Fire finds an
explanation in a rapid production of electricity. If this is so,
surely expert electricians could produce a St. Elmo’s Fire on
any of the aforesaid objects. But have they ever done so?

I do not doubt that such lights have been seen, there is
ample evidence to prove that; but the theory that electricity
is the sole explanation of the phenomena does not seem to me
to be wholly satisfactory.

Like in the other true tales and legends we have seen, science
has so much to explain before we can even begin to enter the
province of the unknown.

*

1 74

I

1

I

also wad

GHOSTS

Authentic
Ghost Stories
of the World

Edited by

ELLIOTT

O’DONNELL

Whether or not you ac¬
tually believe in ghosts you
will assuredly he astonished,
certainly amazed and per¬
haps awestruck by the incred¬
ible ghost stories in this bonk.

The supernatural fasci¬
nates all who experience it
or read of its manifestations
and phenomena. It is per¬
haps fair to say that most
countries of the world have
their superstitions and their
racial ghost stories and men
and women everywhere will
feel a sense of awe and a
little fear when reading or
listening to one of the ghost
stories of the remote past.